Piece By Piece
by Gem588
Summary: Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the “new normal.” Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to understand and assimilate her new and complex feelings for Jayne. Rayne, but will to
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, elements of her life, River attempts to understand and assimilate her new and complex feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on canon pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

**Piece By Piece**

Chapter 1: Prologue

Fourteen-year-old River Tam sat on the steps of the Kurulev Osirian School of Classical Ballet, her nose buried in a book about terraforming projects on the Rim, waiting for her car. She couldn't help overhearing two of her classmates going on and on "about losing their hearts" to various boys. River thought that expression was completely idiotic. A heart was a four-chambered, muscular organ comprised of ventricles and atria, topped by the aorta and fed through the vena cava. Not something that you could just misplace, not something that you could _lose_.

Apparently the local school had just finished a unit on wars on Earth-That-Was, because all the girls were atwitter about the American Civil War section, always a thematic favorite with the Alliance Ministry of Education. The lesson must have included a unit on culture, because the bulk of the girls were newly-hatched, passionate aficionados of the ancient vid _Gone with the Wind_. The current teenspeak for the female population, always searching for the newest trend, was suddenly rife with "la"s, "fiddle-dee-dee"s, "I do declare"s and "I've plumb lost my heart to"s.

"I do declare I have lost my heart to Collingsworth Sook!" Oriana Ventali gushed. "Did you see him at the charity benefit last night? La! His suit was from Etienne's, I heard."

River rolled her eyes and couldn't help her audible snort of disdain. The Osirian premier's son was a blithering idiot, and the most expensive suit in the solar system wasn't going to rectify that.

The two girls looked over at her with dislike. Not only was River Tam generally acknowledged as being some sort of genius, she was also Kurulev's star pupil, always showing everybody up.

"Well, _I _think I've lost my heart to that gorgeous Simon Tam," Semley Duncan added maliciously, knowing that River wouldn't take kindly to the thought of anyone fancying the precious Simon. "My mama says he's going to be Head Surgeon at the Medacad some day."

River didn't respond, just glowered over the edge of her book. Third rate dancers, third rate minds, she didn't need to waste energy on a reply. Simon wouldn't look twice at either of them.

"Great balls of fire!" Oriana sang out mockingly. "What would you think of that, River Tam? Wouldn't you love to have one of us as your _sao zi_?"

"I think that either one of us could _easily_ lose our hearts to your big brother," Semley giggled.

River closed her book, picked up her zippered bag and stood, seeing one of the silvery cars of the Tam house come gliding around the corner.

"I hope you _both_ do," she said sweetly as she began to skip down the steps. "If you lost your hearts to my brother then your other organs, including your brains, would soon cease to be oxygenated sufficiently to function. Not that anyone would notice. But the optimal outcome, of course, is that you'd both be _dead_." She gave a tinkly wave of her fingers as she slipped into the open door of the vehicle, which closed behind her with a mechanical _shush_.

River looked out the smoky glass at the girls' twin expressions of annoyance and embarrassment, and laughed.

"Home." She instructed out loud, and watched as the directions flashed briefly across the navigational screen. The car moved forward smoothly. Soon, she thought, she wouldn't have to deal with irritating people like that. The Academy only accepted the best and the brightest. She would have Theoretical Physics. She would have Ancient Languages. She would have Music and Philosophy and she would finally have the time and resources to devote to her pet project, a biography of the tragic mathematician Yutaka Taniyama. She would have a private dance instructor, the famous Madame Tyng. She wouldn't have to put up with any more "fiddle-dee-dee"s and "varmint"s and stupid expressions about the heart.

River leaned her head back against the cushioned seat and let her thoughts wander. All these girls were so preoccupied with the opposite sex. She didn't quite understand the attraction. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the handsomest boy she knew, other than Simon. Probably Yun Lu Petersen. He was really good at tennis, but he had an aggravating, nasal laugh, and had screamed like a girl last year when a spider landed on his hand. She couldn't imagine ever having any romantic feelings for him.

River shook her head, and reopened her book. Losing your heart… ridiculous.

&&&

**Chinese: **_sao zi_ – older brother's wife/sister-in-law

**A/N:** FYI: My first two stories were pretty much complete before I posted…this one is definitely a WIP. I've got some sketchy future chapters, but I'm still writing. We'll have to see where this one goes together. Please let me know if you like the first couple of chapters. Thanks for reading!

Gem


	2. Can't Take Him Anywhere

Chapter 2: Can't Take Him Anywhere

- _Present Day_ -

"Miranda!" The drunken voice sneered, rising above the general hubbub of the saloon. "You actually believed that _go se_?"

Mal, lounging at the bar, straightened slowly. He lifted his glass to his mouth and swigged the rest of his scotch while he had the chance, giving a surreptitious look over his shoulder at the same time.

They'd come in for a drink after delivering and getting payment for a little smuggling job, and they were just waiting for River to get back with the mule, which had sprung a leak of some essential fluid on the way into town. Mal had decided to send the mule back to Serenity for a little Kaylee attention while he and Jayne saw to business in a nearby warehouse. Mal was currently sporting a flat cloth panel lined with heavy cash money strapped against his lower back, concealed by his long brown duster. Their payout had been more than decent, and no gun shots had been exchanged, for once. Feeling complacent, when Mal had radioed River and she'd estimated her time of arrival would be forty-one minutes, he'd told her to take her time. He and Jayne had moseyed down the street until they'd found this tavern, drawn by the Alliance flag and the garish bunting draped across the second level balcony in recognition of Unification Day.

Now that Simon and River no longer had a bounty over their heads, Serenity and crew were able to venture a little closer to the core planets, where jobs were more lucrative… and where unification had been more widely supported. Mal'd been expecting some kind of comment like that for the last half hour, but the celebratory atmosphere had definitely been subdued this year. Mal had started to think that they were going to get through this Unification Day with a disappointing lack of brawling. Hmm. Looked like he might have been a mite pessimistic in that regard. That was the wonderful thing about wanting to start a fight in a bar: pretty much, all you had to do was sit back and let alcohol do the work for you.

He glanced across to the pool table, where Jayne was squinting at the drunk through the thick haze of cigar smoke that circled around his head, courtesy of the noisome stogie clenched between his teeth. He had a pool cue in his hand and he was chalking the tip very methodically, waiting.

"What do you mean, _go se_?" One of the other patrons of this fine establishment slurred back. "Alliance is the ones who made 'em. You know, _them_. They killed off all them people to make 'em. Who knows what gorram else they're doing? What other monsters they're creatin?" There were scattered murmurs of agreement.

That muttered response set up a dual reaction in Mal. One, he was gratified to hear any acknowledgement of reavers at all, this close in. Two, his anger simmered to a boil that Mr. Universe, Book, and Wash had _died _to get that information out, and there was still only a pathetic little whimper of dissent when some gorram uni started flapping his ruttin' mouth like this.

The firestorm of the Miranda wave had been hottest and heaviest eight months ago while Mal and the crew had been recuperating and refitting Serenity. There had been protests and hysterical demands for explanations from the Allied worlds. "Exploratory committees" and "task forces" had been formed and a few high-level cabinet ministers had quickly resigned. It came out that some of the researchers and scientists that had worked on the Pax program had mysteriously disappeared several years ago, and there were criminal investigations into that. Families that had wanted to retrieve the bodies of their loved ones from Miranda after the "failed terraforming" experiment, but had been told by the government that the atmosphere was too toxic, had now banded together and were suing everyone they could think of and trying to raise enough money to fly to Miranda and find the remains.

It was the biggest scandal that the Alliance had ever faced. Even so, the Alliance had wobbled, but it hadn't fallen down. The operative had been right. The deaths of millions of people shocked the wealthy Core planets, but not enough to stop commerce or cause a permanent rift with the smoothly running machine that was the Alliance government. Miranda was something that had happened years ago, really, to people who shouldn't have been so reckless as to abandon the safety of the Core for the wilds of the Rim. Pax was merely a noble health experiment that had failed, as if the residents of Miranda were a plague-stricken town that had been given a bad batch of inoculations. Soon the sub-channels on the cortex were running the story that the Miranda wave had been manufactured by a revived separatist movement. _Reavers? What reavers? Show us these "reavers," these man-beasts of some lurid penny dreadful_, taunted one of the commentators. Fact was, a significant number of reavers had been killed in the battle off Mr. Universe's moon, and reaver attacks had dwindled to vague and unverifiable reports from the remotest worlds. The irony of this did not escape Malcolm Reynolds.

"You talkin' bout _reavers_?" Obnoxious drunk laughed loosely, wiping at a thin line of whiskey rolling down his chin. "They ain't real. _I've _never seen one, and I've been out in the black plenty of times. That Miranda wave was pure browncoat propaganda. My nephew, he's on the _Westmark_, he says his captain brought the word down himself that it was all a buncha –"

"They's real." The low, gravelly voice was familiar – too familiar.

Mal's closed his eyes briefly and almost groaned in frustration. Trust Jayne not to be able to keep still for half a ruttin' minute while he assayed the situation. He wasn't sure yet how many of the big _hun dans_ surrounding the obnoxious guy were part of his posse. Oh, well, he shrugged inwardly, as usual, time to play it by ear. He turned and put his back against the bar, resting his elbows casually on the worn leather rim. He wished Zoë was there.

"Oh, yeah?" Obnoxious stood up, and he was a lot bigger standing than he was sitting. Still, the height and heft of Jayne made the guy look fairly benign in comparison. About five other guys looked edgy, though, like they were about to get to their feet and form some back-up. This was definitely Obnoxious' home territory. Mal's eyes flickered all around the saloon. There were more than those five, a lot more, and they were spread out.

"Yeah." Jayne's eyes were narrow as he swaggered forward a few feet, still holding the pool cue loosely in one hand. The noise level diminished rapidly as the budding scene in the middle of the bar caught the attention of the patrons.

Obnoxious looked around at his fan club, sniggering. "So you say you've seen 'em?"

"Seen 'em, killed 'em." Jayne nodded. "That Miranda wave was true."

"You killed reavers?" Obnoxious gasped out in a mocking, sing-song voice. "Hear that, gents? The big, dumb ox wants us to believe he killed him some reavers. He must be magical, like, because I thought reavers were all invincible. Maybe he offed some vampires and some frankensteins, too?"

"_I_ believe it!" Tittered a booze-soaked female voice. Mal tracked it to a buxom blonde whose assets were just about fallin' out of her too-tight top. She'd been all over Obnoxious but a minute before, now she was gazing at Jayne with a familiar gleam in her eye. Jayne always did attract that type, Mal reflected. Well, to be honest, he attracted most women, until he opened his mouth. To Mal's surprise, other than giving a provocative smirk clearly intended to annoy Obnoxious, Jayne didn't appear to be interested. Huh.

"That's enough, Ling," Obnoxious didn't appear too happy that his gal had the look for Jayne.

"Get back here and finish this game," the guy that Jayne had been playing pool against called suddenly. Mal wasn't sure if he was trying to diffuse the situation, or provide a distraction for Obnoxious and his pals. "You ain't gonna get in a fight with Spanky while I got money on the line."

"Spanky?" Jayne repeated in amused disdain, arching an eyebrow. He sucked a drag of his cigar through his teeth and chuckled out the smoke. "Spanky. And here I was, takin' you all serious."

Obnoxious turned Spanky looked ugly.

"Tell us about the reavers!" An anonymous voice shouted.

"Hey, Spanky, let 'im speak out." Came another.

Jayne accepted the invitation. "Reavers is real. Get a little farther out and you'd know it. They rape women to death and eat children. Alive. When Spanky tells you that reavers ain't real, he don't know what the hell he's talking about." Jayne raised his voice. "I'm thinkin' Spanky ain't never been out in the black. I'm thinkin' Spanky ain't never been ten clicks outta this town. I'm thinkin' Spanky here is a big, fat liar."

There was muted laughter scattered among the clientele, which looked to rile Spanky up even further. He definitely didn't appreciate getting dissed in his own house.

"You shut up, fuckhead," Spanky growled dangerously.

Bombs away, Mal thought, knowin' Jayne Cobb really only had one conditioned response to those words.

Jayne took the cigar out of his mouth and gave a rakish grin.

"Make me."

&&&

**Chinese: **

_go se_ – shit

_hun dan _– bastard


	3. Big Stick Therapy

Chapter 3: Big Stick Therapy

Despite the grin, the amused expression in Jayne's eyes had dropped away like a stripped off mask, leaving only a concentrated ferocity that had a few of the more sober customers of the saloon rethinking the wisdom of taking him on. Spanky wasn't one of them.

"Oh, I'll make you!" Spanky bellowed, and charged, and the place erupted.

"Back left!" Mal shouted.

Jayne must have heard, because with a quick jerk he'd lofted the pool cue, wedged it under his left arm, and sent a vicious jab backwards, scoring a rib-crackin' spike into the gut of one of Spanky's buddies, who had undoubtedly been trying to grab Jayne from behind and hold him down for some Spanky punishment.

Spanky kept comin', and some of his burly friends behind him, and Mal watched in amazement as Jayne shifted the pool cue and swung it right around like he was slammin' out a home run. He whacked Spanky across the face, then reversed and got the two other guys on the backswing.

Have some big stick therapy, you assholes, Mal cheered inwardly, courtesy of my merc.

A couple more townies surged to their feet and were in the fray. Now it was three on one, as Spanky and buddies recovered and attacked Jayne. They were swearing volubly, with blood flying from a broken nose and a couple of split lips. Jayne held them off with the pool cue, which they were furiously trying to wrench from his hands. Jayne spun them around, and then flung the stick forward, watching in satisfaction as their own momentum crashed them into a table, which collapsed under their weight.

Jayne got clipped across the jaw and he locked down on the offending arm, hoisting the guy up and hurling him into a wall. There was a light in his eyes like a berserker of old, and Mal mentally congratulated Jayne's high school guidance counselor, 'cause Jayne had definitely chosen the right profession to match his skill set.

Now there were people fighting all over, regulars taking the opportunity to score a few hits off each other, settling old grievances. There was even a cat fight over in the corner between Ling and some other trampy-looking broad. It was a general free-for-all. Mal couldn't help but give himself a mental pat on the back.

Jayne got jumped by two big reubens and was taking some serious punches to the gut and kidneys. He shoved one down and stomped, and Mal thought he could hear bones break. He could definitely hear the screaming. Spanky was back on his feet and was headed for Jayne, a club made from a fragmented table leg in his hand.

"Uh, Mal?" Jayne grunted, as Spanky swung. "Any time?" He warded off the blow with his forearm, and managed to get underneath Spanky's raised arm and send a swift knuckle jab right to his throat. Spanky fell back momentarily, choking, but came on again, still wheezing, with help. They flowed onto Jayne, and Mal could hardly see the large man at the center of the shifting bodies and swinging fists. The whole group lurched against the wall and smashed into a huge decorative mirror, sending it crashing to the floor in an explosion of shattered glass.

Great. Huge shards of jagged glass really upped the excitement factor.

Mal looked over his shoulder at the grizzled old bartender, who was standing there watching the destruction with supreme indifference, his white towel slung over his shoulder.

"Not your place, huh?" Mal asked.

The guy shook his head definitively and folded his arms. "Shitty pay, too."

"Ah," an understanding Mal nodded, rolled up his sleeves, and waded in.

&&&

"I'd say we're humped," Jayne gritted out, throwing out a left hook that sent one of his opponents reeling across the room. He and Mal were back to back, having been boxed into a corner by sheer numbers. The door of the tavern looked pretty far away, Mal considered, no gettin' out without sustaining some serious bodily damage. The only other exit available was a set of stairs to Jayne's right. In Mal's estimation their only course of action was to try and get up the stairs before they got dragged under by Spanky and company.

Mal was pretty sure those steps would eventually lead to that balcony on the front side of the building. It hadn't been _too _high. They could probably hang onto the banister and drop to the ground. Then at least they'd be outside, where their options would expand. Might even get rescued by his little pilot. If they didn't break their legs first, that is.

"Stairs," Mal jerked his head towards the flight of stairs behind him. He took a badly aimed punch to the ear. It stung like a sumbitch and Mal let loose a few choice Mandarin curses.

"What's that gonna get us but trapped?" Jayne growled, reaching out and clamping his big hands around the scrawny necks of two of Spanky's less attractive buddies. He clapped their heads together with all his might, sending both of them spiralling to the floor.

"And your plan is?" Mal demanded sarcastically, dodging another punch.

Jayne took a moment to consider.

"Go," he conceded briefly, fists still in motion.

Mal darted behind him and started up the stairs. Jayne shifted slightly to block the stairs more effectively, and then feinted to the left before falling back. He gave an inhuman roar and heaved up a heavy wooden bench from against the wall, sweeping it back and forth. Jayne angled the legs outward and drove forward into the crowd, encouraging the mob to shift backwards to escape the press. Jayne backed up quickly, still holding the bench like a shield, until he was about halfway up to the first landing. At that point he flung the bench back down onto the surge of followers. The first wave collapsed underneath it in a tangled mess of limbs, cutting off immediate pursuit.

"I hope reavers come and eat your puny little balls, Spanky!" Jayne snarled as he turned and pounded up the stairs after Mal.

Mal entered a darkened corridor in the upper level, searching for some kind of egress to the balcony. There were closed doors lining the wall. Mal tried a couple of knobs as he ran, but they were locked. Place had probably been run as a hotel or whorehouse at some point. There, at the end of the hall, there was a lot of light coming from a small hallway on the southeast corner. Yep, he peered around and was rewarded by the sight of tall French doors, with the evening light shining faintly through dusty lace curtains. He struggled to get the 'com out of his pocket and thumbed the send button urgently.

"Captain?" River responded immediately.

"You comin', lil' albatross?" Mal demanded. "'Cause sooner would be better!" He shot Jayne a look as the big man joined him in the little passageway. Jayne merely nodded, lifted one big boot, and splintered the thin wood around the lock with a rending crack and a tinkle of breaking glass. They could hear shouts from below, growing louder.

"Almost there!" River's voice was steady and cheerful.

"We're climbin' down from this –" Mal began, but River cut him off.

"I know where you are. Three minutes and thirty-two seconds. Out."

"Bless your witchy little heart," Mal murmured with gratitude, and moved forward.

They burst out onto the balcony, which was actually more of veranda than a narrow walkway. There were battered lounge chairs and tables arranged haphazardly in the spacious area, complete with cups and litter and other remains from some party. The two men ran for the railing, and grabbed the top bar with the intent of vaulting themselves over.

Simultaneously, they baulked, and Mal clutched desperately at the railing to keep himself from falling over. It was a hell of a lot higher than it had looked from the ground outside.

"Mal…" Jayne glared at him in exasperation, a "What did I tell you?" clearly forming on his tongue.

"What?" Mal protested. "It's not like _you_ –"

There was the unwelcome noise of pounding footsteps crunching on broken glass.

"Now we got you! Hands up, you gorram browncoats," Spanky's hoarse voice, the result of Jayne's fist to his trachea, came from behind them, along with the unmistakable sound of a rifle being cocked.

Mal sighed in resignation, and lifted his hands in the air as he and Jayne turned to face the music.

&&&&&&

**A/N:** Holy Crap, action is _hard_! Fun, but hard. Hope it wasn't too confusing to follow. Thanks to **michebabyblue** (You're right about River's heart, BTW! Smushy stuff _will _ensue. Sorry, though, Wash is gone in this fic) and **EreshkigalGirl **(Your reviews are like being visited by a celebrity - I loved "Angel" so much!) for taking the time to review. Gem


	4. Women Drivers

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship _Serenity_ all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of _Serenity_ still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, elements of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 4: Women Drivers

Someone had handed Spanky a rifle, which was bad. Spanky'd certainly had a lotta incentive to use one this evening.

Mal took a quick mental vacation to try and catalog how many times he'd stood, hands hovering half-heartedly around his shoulders, looking down the barrel of a gun. Should he break out pistols from long guns? Revolvers from carbines? And there was that one time that Inara had pointed the Lassiter at him…ah, well. Time for that later. Or not.

"Hey, now, Spanky, wooden sticks are one thing, but when you put your hand to steel, this ain't high-spirited fun no more." Mal gave a hopeful chuckle as he counted heads. Eleven had made it up here; only Spanky and two other guys in the back appeared to be armed. They were all crowded in on one another, though, and the other two shooters were well back. Hard to hit.

He wondered if he'd be able to draw his weapon in time, if it came to that. He was really regrettin' making Jayne leave his arsenal in the mule before the meeting at the warehouse. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, seeing as how Jayne was wont to disrupt negotiations in an unfriendly-like manner at the first sign of a disagreement.

"Fun?" Spanky rasped in outrage, snuffling painfully. "That gorram bull broke my nose!" He glared at Jayne with his teeth bared, his nose visibly crooked and swollen.

Jayne shrugged and grimaced with an insulting lack of concern, looking around idly. Mal caught the bigger man's gaze sharpening momentarily on a wide-mouthed, heavy metal canister not far from his feet, a garbage bin or a planter or some such. Mal had to hand it to the merc: he _was _resourceful.

"He surely did," Mal inclined his head slightly, agreeing with Spanky in a peaceable manner, "'cause he's a mite excitable. But he's very, very sorry."

Jayne gave a snort and Mal wanted to kick him. Spanky liked to talk, and a talkin' Spanky was a not-shootin' Spanky.

"He don't seem sorry!" Spanky contradicted with a offended sneer.

"And what about my brother Jordie? He broke all a his fingers!" The guy next to Spanky accused shrilly, pointing at Jayne.

"Well, fingers are easy to splint –" Mal began helpfully.

"And his arm! In two places! Shoot 'im, Spanky!"

"Hang on, Wesley, maybe there's something better to be done with these in-dee-pendants. Who knows, maybe there's a bounty on 'em?" Spanky grinned.

"A bounty?" That caused a ripple of interest.

"Yeah, maybe they're wanted by the Alliance, maybe their job is ta go to different towns, spreadin' their lies, fomentin' rebellion!" Spanky was getting excited about his theme.

Fomentin' rebellion? Mal raised his eyebrows, mouthing the words silently. Been there, done that.

"I don't care!" Wesley shouted suddenly. "Those bastards hurt my big brother!" Impetuously, he reached out and grabbed at the rifle.

"What the hell you doin'?" Spanky fought back in annoyance. They struggled over the gun, panting and swearing.

Mal's eyes slid to Jayne, and Jayne gave a tiny nod of affirmation.

The big man reached down swiftly and grabbed the heavy metal canister not far from his feet. He launched it straight at Wes and Spanky with a forceful grunt. As it soared through the air, a strange ropy liquid slopped out of the opening, covering Wes and Spanky and splattering the front row of the others with murky, bilious goop. The container clocked Wes cold, and he folded to the ground, his tenacious grip on the rifle dragging the dripping Spanky down with him.

Mal was so stunned at this odd turn of events that he completely forgot he was supposed to be using the distraction to draw his gun.

"Gah!" Spanky gasped in disgust, losing his grip on the rifle as he tried to sit up. The substance was oozing down his hair and the tip of his nose, sending out a spray of globules with every affronted breath. There was a pool of it underneath him and his hands kept sliding as he tried to lever himself up. The whole gang was frozen in revolted horror.

"That's not ...?" Mal couldn't help stuttering out, various origins of the viscous substance occurring to him in rapid succession, none of them appealing.

"Gun!" Jayne reminded impatiently.

"Oh!" Mal drew his pistol and shot through the crowd, accurately hitting one of the armed men in the right shoulder. The guy went down with a shout of pain. The other gunman knew what he was doing, though, and fired from the other side, the bullet whizzing past Mal's ear.

Mal and Jayne hit the deck, and as Mal fell his gun was jarred from his hand and went skittering across the boards. Shots continued to fly over their heads.

"Well, fuck," Mal gritted out, covering the back of his skull with his hands.

"_Ta ma de_," he heard Jayne whisper in awe behind him.

"No shit!"

"Mal."

Jayne had actually reached out and tugged on his sleeve.

"_Mal_..."

"Jayne, do you not realize we are in a situation here...?" Mal yanked his arm away in exasperation, his gaze naturally following the path of Jayne's widened eyes.

His mouth fell open as he looked through the railings and saw the mule, piloted by River, lofting through the air, straight at the balcony.

"Is that my mule? Can my mule do that?" Mal demanded with a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. "Can she do that with my mule?"

"She's doin' it," Jayne breathed, exultation in his tone.

"What the _fuck _–" Spanky was now squinting in the same direction.

The mule exploded onto the balcony sideways, ass-end screeching along the inner wall, shattering windows and ripping off hardware, frames and boards, the front end shearing off the banister and railings one after another like toothpicks, plowing tables and chairs and debris before it like a wave of destruction. The group of townies concentrated nearest the building were bowled down like ninepins.

Jayne dragged Mal back a pace and they scrambled to their feet, just managing to leap over a flood of chairs that tumbled in their direction and slammed into the railing behind them.

Even before the vehicle juddered to halt, River vaulted over the side, flinging Vera to Jayne and drawing her pistols as she somersaulted onto the floor. She landed in a defensive crouch, half concealed by a flipped-over table, her rubbery boots gripping the wooden flooring beneath her feet, arms braced, pistols ready. With her flirty skirt and leggings and the two long glossy braids on either side of her head, River looked all of twelve, instead of eighteen point six. Her eyes were locked on Spanky and the rifle, having determined that the other two gunmen were either disarmed or unconscious.

Jayne snapped the Callahan out of the air, seemingly without conscious thought, as if he'd been expecting her to do that. His finger went unerringly to the trigger and he braced the weapon against his hip, strafing the wooden ceiling in a halo of gunfire, giving 'em a jubilant taste of "Who's in charge _now_?"

As the gun blasts echoed away, the only sounds to break the sudden, terrified silence were the wood shavings drifting hazily from the remnants of the ceiling and the tinny clatter of a small pile of rubble in the far corner, losing its battle with gravity.

You should be terrified, noted Mal with shocked satisfaction, his eyes moving wonderingly from Jayne to River, seein' as how you're bookended by two of the most violence-prone creatures currently on this world. I'm fair to being unsettled myself.

"That was…spontaneous." He commented to River in a conversational tone, clearing his throat and brushing splinters off his shoulders nonchalantly.

"No time for stealth. Police are on their way," she answered in her sweetly serious voice.

"Care to tell me how you got my mule to fly that high?"

"I found a utility vehicle with an optimal incline and adjusted my angle and initial velocity for maximum projectile motion."

Mal and Jayne exchanged an uncomfortable look.

River took pity and gave a little sigh. "I bounced off a truck."

"I got that," Jayne put in quickly.

The thought of the authorities on the way and the fact that River seemed distracted must have given Spanky courage, because his hand twitched toward the rifle on the floor next to him. River, not even glancing in his direction, squeezed off a shot, burying a bullet millimeters from his fingers.

"No," she advised coolly.

Spanky subsided swiftly, completely defeated. Couldn't really get any worse, Mal considered, than lying on the ground, covered with mysterious goo and sawdust, outgunned by Pippi Longstocking.

He spotted his pistol and reached down for it, blowing off the wood shavings and inspecting it calmly before he spun it around his finger and holstered it.

"Well, this has been all kinds of entertaining, Spanky," he smiled. "But my ride's here."

&&&&

**A/N:** Sigh. I love my captain! Fun opening sequence is over, time for River's POV. (Rayne on the horizon!) Thanks to all for the great reviews and for reading. Hope you liked! Gem


	5. Burnt

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship _Serenity_ all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of _Serenity_ still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, elements of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course

Chapter Five: Burnt

"A spittoon," the captain wheezed, holding his sides in an attempt to contain the painful spasms of laughter. "A _spittoon_. You K.O.'d our friend Wes with a gorram _spittoon_."

He and Jayne were both laughing so hard they were crying.

"Did you know when you threw it? Did you know it was a sp-spittoon?" Mal gasped when he could.

"Knew what it was; didn't know it was _full_." Jayne choked out, and that set them both off again.

Behind the controls in the front seat of the mule, River adjusted her goggles against the bracing wind, smiling secretly to herself. The two men had been sprawled out in the rear seat, chortling about the spittoon, for a good five minutes. It was after the stomach-wrenching plunge off the balcony, and the tense ride through the outskirts of town, when Mal, finally satisfied that they were in the clear, turned to Jayne and squawked, "What in the sphincter a hell was that crap you spewed all over Spanky?"

She shivered happily and let the men's euphoria wash through her, leaving a warm calm in its wake. How long has it been, she wondered, since she'd heard either of them laugh like that? Felt that unbridled brio? Certainly it was before Miranda…

She'd already been on her way to the rendezvous when she'd felt the captain's tension jolt upwards, and she'd gotten flashes of the outside of the saloon, the Unification Day bunting, the drunken argument, and his dry amusement at Jayne's being so – _Jayne_. She was used to reading the captain, as complex as he was, and his thoughts flowed to her easily, even from a distance, when she really concentrated on him. But it was the other thing she'd felt, that white hot flare from Jayne, that had pushed her to accelerate until the mule bucked under the strain. His ferocity had run through her veins like fire, challenging her to maintain her physical and mental equilibrium, because his excitement triggered a wildly intense response of her own. When she'd leapt out of the mule on that balcony it was Jayne that had posed the greatest hindrance to their rescue, because it had taken everything she had to keep her eyes off of him and on the potential threat.

Perhaps it was the rarity of feeling _anything_ from the big mercenary that had made this blast of emotion so provocative. Ever since the events of the Miranda wave, Jayne had become River's greatest puzzle. At first, the survivors had been muted, drained, bodily and psychologically damaged. To the battered crew it seemed only Kaylee and Simon, and the shy flowering of their love, had provided a glimpse of a future untainted by grief. Gradually, inevitably, the atmosphere had eased. Kaylee had mentioned Shepherd Book and the strawberries that he'd bartered for his first passage on _Serenity_, and they'd all smiled at the memory. Inara had debated whether to wear her hair up or down, without wondering drearily why it even mattered. The captain had walked onto the bridge without thinking immediately of Wash. Zoë had ultimately shared the secret she'd held to her heart as her final intimacy with her beloved husband. Guilt, sadness and remorse still welled up at various times, but they were healing. Only Jayne had remained a blank, moving through the ship like an emotionless cipher, closed off from River.

He worked and ate and drank and insulted and squabbled and exercised. He cleaned his guns and sharpened his knives and picked out tunes on his guitar. He went on jobs with Mal and Zoë, and then Mal and River. He did what a Jayne Cobb was supposed to do, but whenever River reached out to probe at his presence, it was as if there were only a Jayne-shaped hole in the fabric of _Serenity_, like one of those shadow silhouettes that she'd cut out of black paper as a child. For some reason the tussle at the saloon had ripped at him, and River was intrigued by what other feelings might be lurking behind that inky façade.

She continued to listen contentedly as the men went on with the brawl postmortem, exchanging experiences and techniques and still enjoying themselves immensely. They were only a few minutes away from _Serenity_, and River radioed the ship to let Zoë know they were coming in. Immediately she felt something wink out a little bit in the captain.

They approached the firefly, crouched amongst the scrub and partially obscured by some small hillocks. River saw the cargo bay ramp folding down and felt a rush of gladness for home.

As she slowed in order to maneuver the mule inside the narrow passage, she saw Zoë standing off to the side, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare of the setting sun, the other resting naturally on the prominent swell of her abdomen.

It won't be long, now, before we are eight again, River thought.

Zoë hadn't told anyone about her pregnancy until she was almost five months along and not even the most elegant or conditioned figure under the most flattering of clothes could hide the telltale bump. River had known, and she suspected that Simon had also known, but Zoë had never indicated that she wished to discuss it or inform the others, so River had kept her silence.

Zoë's announcement had been greeted with a stunned, but enthusiastic response. Zoë was fawned over and cosseted like the most delicate china by the crew. Simon monitored her daily, Kaylee hovered over her as if Zoë had become an invalid, and Inara was always there with pillows and herbal teas and creams for the skin and joint pain salves. Jayne, of course, upon hearing the news that Zoë was expecting, had snorted, "_That_'s gonna be the queerest lookin' _xiao gou _in the 'verse," and Kaylee had hit him. But River saw him fetching things for Zoë so she wouldn't have to climb the stairs, and had once caught him whittling some chubby farm animals out of scrap wood. Zoë submitted to all of this attention with somewhat pained bemusement. It was affirmation from Mal that she needed, and it was Mal's response that had been subdued and ambiguous.

River gave Zoë a little wave as she rumbled by and negotiated the mule to the staging area, where Kaylee could take a look at the minor damage caused by their recent adventure, and where Jayne would eventually stow it high above their heads when _Serenity_ was ready to launch. River braked and began shutting down all the systems.

"When did Unification Day get so ruttin' _fun_?" Jayne demanded with cheerful rhetoric as he sprang down from the rear seat, Vera banging against the back of his shoulder. He hadn't sensed Mal's slight withdrawal, and he was riding high from the fight and bonhomie on the way back to _Serenity_.

"You been in plenty a uni-day scuffles before, Jayne." Mal huffed slightly as he lifted the sack with the payout from where he'd tossed it on the floor of the back seat. He'd gotten quieter and quieter the closer they had gotten to _Serenity_. River had felt his guilt rising. He was angry at himself for laughing, for daring to enjoy that bar brawl. He was afraid of what Zoë was going to think about it, that it would prod her sorrow and loss to the surface again. He was a little angry at her pregnancy prohibiting her from being there, and even angrier that she wouldn't be at his side for the foreseeable future. Ever, maybe. He felt guilty about being angry about that, too.

"Never cared overmuch, though. Just got dragged into it, like." Jayne shrugged.

"Maybe 'cause _you_ got a grudge against the Alliance now, real and true," Mal said impatiently, a sudden dark edge to his voice. He jumped off the mule, and headed for the hidden vault in one of the smuggling compartments. They'd divvy up after supper.

"Aw, Mal." Jayne rolled his eyes at the captain's unexpectedly waspish turn, still practically bouncing on the balls of his feet from the adrenaline and endorphin rush.

River slid sideways, preparing to slip out from behind the controls of the vehicle, when she glanced down at the big mercenary and was caught unprepared. He was looking up at her, strong, brash and brimming with life. The vitality of his aura was almost too much to bear. She felt scorched, swept away from her body and from her mind…before she could gather her wits, he reached up impulsively and grabbed her under the arms. His hands spanned her rib cage as he swung her clear of the mule and dangled her before him, no apparent effort necessary.

River caught her breath at the sensation of his large fingers following the curve of her slight bones, his thumbs only inches under the rise of her breasts, imprinting against her skin. She knew she should react in an aggrieved manner at the indignity of being manhandled this way, but in reality it made her feel deliciously fragile and feminine in contrast to his rough masculinity. Her hands lifted automatically to rest on his shoulders but she stopped herself, a little afraid of touching him. She wondered if he recalled what had happened the last time he had held her in his arms.

Full of good humor, he studied her face, half-obscured by the ridiculously large, round plastic goggles, before he set her down lightly on her feet. They were standing so close together she could feel the heat pouring off his big body. River took an unsteady breath and gazed up him in wonder.

"That was some fancible driving, owlet." He plucked the middle strap of the goggles away from the bridge of her nose and snapped them up against her forehead, causing a slight sting.

"Swallow any bugs?" He grinned down at her, his teeth white and strong in his hard, handsome face, and winked one sky blue eye as he turned away.

River's pulse gave a tremendous surge, and she felt a sudden painful knot form in the vicinity of her chest. She put a tentative hand to her heart as her eyes followed his muscular form. She felt oddly warm and breathless.

"I'm hongry!" he bellowed, taking a new cigar from his the pocket of his vest. He rolled it between his fingers as he loped around the corner and up the stairs toward the dining room. "Whose turn is it cookin' tonight?"

"Simon's!" Kaylee's shout came faintly from the engine room.

"Aw, hell…" Jayne's heartfelt whine floated back through the passage.

Moving her head back and forth with a slightly exasperated sigh, Zoë came up to the younger girl, who was still staring after Jayne, one palm pressed against her chest.

"Somethin' wrong, little one?" the first mate asked in sudden concern, her half-smile diminishing. She stepped to River's side even as she cupped her hands around her distended stomach in an instinctive, protective gesture.

"Jayne –" River began impulsively.

"What did Jayne do?" Zoë cut in, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she automatically assumed the worst. Even a pregnant Zoë was an intimidating Zoë.

River shook her head a little to clear it. Jayne – what? Held me. Complimented me. Winked at me. Smiled at me for the first time with neither sarcasm nor malice. Radiated life and warmth and energy at me like the sun.

"Covered the enemy with saliva," she blurted out.

Zoë had to process that for a second, and then laughed dryly as she continued towards her destination: the infirmary for her daily check-up.

"Sounds like our Jayne. Can't wait to hear that story, sir." She paused by the captain as he clicked the concealing panel into place. "We get paid?"

Mal smiled a little uncomfortably at her waddling gait, so different from her usual lethal grace. "Got paid, busted up the joint, flying spit, flying mules…it was a sunny day." He flicked an assessing look at her, waiting for her reaction. When he saw only vague amusement, he relaxed and asked if Kaylee had gotten any farther along on those hull repairs.

River only half-listened to their talk as they drifted farther away. She stared forlornly at the passage where Jayne disappeared. When he'd left the room everything had seemed to darken. Her hand was still limply covering that patch of skin between her breasts, and she wondered what on earth this hot, empty, achy feeling was. It almost felt as if some vital part of her heart was... missing.

&&&&

**Chinese:** _xiao gou _- puppy

**A/N: **Yay for Rayne! Yay for Wash/Zoë babyfics! Wash is too awesome…when so many Darwin Award winners get to pass on their genetic material and he's shut out…I had to right that wrong. Thanks for reading, and reviewing! Gem


	6. Interlogue I

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter Six: Interlogue I

– _Ten Years Ago_ –

"This is preposterous," the first voice hissed. "It's almost time for dismissal."

"I know," the second voice concurred. "The poor thing has been here nearly all day."

River had awakened from a fitful sleep and now rolled over restlessly in the bed, the crisp, institutional mattress covering crinkling with every movement. It was uncomfortable and made her feel even hotter. She squinted out the smoky window and saw the school nurse talking with one of the assistants from the administrator's office. They didn't realize it, but her cot was right next to an air vent that must have had an outlet in that room, also. Even through the throbbing pain of her headache, she could hear every word they were saying. She shook feverishly under the thin blanket, and closed her eyes again.

She was very hazy from her high temperature, but she did remember feeling faint during the long-awaited holovid viewing of Queen Rensla's famous speech to the Assembly on why the Alliance should honor constitutional monarchies. When she'd come to, she'd looked up at the hologram of the Queen and noticed that half of the the Queen's image seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, not realizing at first it was because her own supine body was blocking the projection from the floor.

"Have you heard anything from the parents? I thought they were called hours ago," asked the nurse.

"They were, multiple times. The father is in some big meeting, and the mother – I can hardly credit this, myself – the mother is apparently _shopping_ in Bahrat-Souk."

"You are kidding me. That's kind of far...still...she's not coming?"

"No. The housekeeper sent the car, but you know we can't release an ill child without a responsible adult to sign the forms."

"Especially with something as contagious as zee-flu."

"Exactly. This child should almost be quarantined! Have you called the hospital?"

"Yes, but they don't want her. Their pediatric wards are full with other cases, and it's just a standard childhood virus to them until the symptoms are debilitating enough to require admittance." The nurse sighed.

"Are you immune? I am." The administrative assistant's voice was apprehensive.

"Yes, thankfully, but I had a cousin that died of it many years ago."

"Oh, that's too bad. We're checking the records…so far about half the children in Ms. Mendelson's class are immune, half not. This could be a nightmare. These parents are going to be very unhappy when we inform them that their precious darlings have been exposed to zee-flu."

There was a small sound of agreement.

"If they have a housekeeper, why can't he come and pick her up?" the nurse asked suddenly.

"What do you mean, 'if they have a housekeeper'? This is the most selective school in the district, isn't it?" The assistant's voice had a hint of sarcasm laced with envy. "Anyway, it's a she. She said they're expecting a shipment of some kind, coming all the way from Aten, and that she'll be fired if she isn't there to secure it."

"I find that hard to believe!"

"Believe it." The assistant replied acidly.

River swallowed around the thickness in her throat and wished the nurse would come in and offer her something to drink. She could have told the nurse that their housekeeper had been instructed to tend to her house duties above anything else, even emergencies involving the children.

"I wouldn't panic just yet, anyway. There's a less than fifteen percent chance that any of them are infected." The nurse tried look on the bright side.

"How do you know that?"

"River calculated it. She told me while I was giving her an analgesic and helping her to bed that after she arrived at school this morning and began to feel unwell, she suspected that it was zee-flu from news reports and the pattern of recent break-outs. She self-treated by applying antiviral lotion to her hands and mouth and purposely staying as far away from her classmates as possible. She said she hadn't coughed or sneezed or emitted any explosive particulate matter, which is usually how the zee-flu virus spreads. She apologized for not reporting to my office sooner, but she told me that she had really wanted to see that holovid of Queen Rensla because it's not available on the cortex."

River could almost feel the nurse smiling, and felt a distant, sickly wave of affection for her.

"The eight-year-old diagnosed herself? And you believed her?" There was a hint of astonished amusement in the assistant's voice.

"Of course I did. I ran a scan first thing to confirm it. I know that you haven't been here long, but haven't you seen her records? This child doesn't even belong in this school. She should be homeschooled, or elevated to secondary form. Probably even university."

"Then why don't her parents do that?"

River could hear the puzzlement in the assistant's voice.

"It says in her file that they believe she needs to be socialized with age-appropriate peers."

They want me to be normal, River corrected her silently.

"I do recall several incidents involving this child that were brought before the administrator…that plan doesn't appear to be working."

"No. She seems to have an impossible time interacting with the other children."

There was a short silence.

"I can't believe they would just leave her here like this. What kind of parents don't come for their daughter?"

A slow tear leaked from River's hot eyes. She knew how her parents felt about her. She was inconveniently strange, talented but odd, too smart, too mouthy, too everything. She didn't have friends, she didn't go on play dates, and she didn't care about toys and clothes. Neither her mother nor her father understood her, and they were too fixated on themselves and on Simon to try. She thought she had disciplined herself not to let their favoritism for her brother hurt her any more, but it did as she acknowledged the truth: they would have come immediately for Simon.

The com buzzed and the nurse answered it.

"Yes?"

"We have a gentleman at the front cubicle, asking for River Tam," said the disembodied voice.

"The father?" exclaimed the assistant in relief.

"No – it's a…who did you say…? Simon Tam. He's her …older brother, and he says he has a car ready."

River's eyes squeezed shut and she almost sobbed with relief. She wanted to get out of this bed, with the scratchy stiff sheets, and this room, with the unpleasant smell of illness and the strange greenish lights that made her headache worse. She wanted Simon. She wanted _home_.

"Is he a legal adult?" The assistant asked hopefully.

"He looks young." The other voice sounded dubious.

"I remember him from his school days here…he's probably about eighteen or nineteen," said the nurse.

He's seventeen, River thought. He'll be eighteen in twenty-two days.

"Eighteen...nineteen…twelve, I'll take anything at this point. I'll fill out the forms and clear the hallway to the back entrance. We can have the brother meet us there." The assistant was clearly relieved to have found a solution to this problem.

"Thank goodness! We can get this poor little mite home. I'm sure once they see how ill she is, her parents will do everything they can for her." The nurse clucked optimistically.

"Or hire someone who will." The assistant commented bitchily as she left the room.

There was a tiny knock at the door, and the nurse came in.

"River, sweetie? Are you awake now? How's that fever? Did the pain reliever help with your headache?" She came in and brushed her cool hand across River's brow.

"Yes," River replied scratchily, the lymph nodes in her throat swollen. It wasn't true, her headache was worse, but she didn't want anything to prevent her from being able to leave.

"I did a scan, and the nanotech viral array indicated that you were absolutely right. It is zee-flu. So we're going to get you in a wheelchair and take you out the back, so that we can avoid the other children. Do you understand?"

River nodded.

"Your brother is here…Simon, right?" the nurse said with soothing cheer as she began to unfold the wheelchair in the corner. "He's going to get you home and then your mum and dad can take good care of you."

You have obviously never met Gabriel and Regan Tam, River observed silently, shivering grimly as her fever began to rise.

&&&

**A/N: **Interlogue? What's an interlogue? Well, I didn't know what else to call these little flashback-y snippets, and since they are going to come in the middle…interlogues. God, I hate the parental Tams. Can you tell? Thanks for reading and for all the nice reviews! Gem

Cookiedough15: The title of chapter two was inspired only by Mal's unspoken thought. ::grin::


	7. It's Only Funny Til Someone Gets Hurt

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 7: It's Only Funny 'Til Someone Gets Hurt

– _Present Day_ –

"- and then Jayne punches this guy and he actually says 'Mommy' as he's fallin' to the floor- " the captain was recounting the events of the bar brawl, with hilarious impressions of Spanky, Jayne, the blowsy Ling, and various other key players. The entire crew was convulsed with laughter as they sat around the dining room table after dinner, hanging on his every word. Mal had glossed over the part about Miranda, and taken up the tale with Jayne and the pool cue.

River looked around at the shining faces, laughing herself, sharing the wonder of the moment. She ended up back at the captain, and she marveled again that this was his great gift…one he claimed reluctantly, if at all, but it was his gift all the same. He drew people to him, and made them his own.

She turned her head slightly and let her gaze slide over her right shoulder and behind Simon to look at Jayne, sitting in his accustomed place at the end of the table. He was balancing back on two legs of his chair with his arms folded across his chest, grinning reluctantly at Mal's over-the-top rendition of events. Even though Mal took every opportunity to describe Jayne in the most insulting of terms, the captain was making it perfectly clear that the mercenary was the big damn hero of this tale.

River studied Jayne as unobtrusively as possible. She could see the tape on his fingers where he'd bandaged himself up, and his short-sleeved t-shirt showed a large and angry contusion on his lower arm where he'd taken a bad blow. He had a bruise on his left cheekbone, too, a slight darkening just under the eye that was somehow quite alluring.

She was disconcerted at just how much she wanted to stroke her cool fingertips over that tender skin, to ease the painful swelling. Since he'd walked away from her in the cargo bay her sense of connectedness to him had faded rapidly, and she was once again reduced to kinetics and common sense when it came to deciphering his feelings. The frustration and loss she felt was in direct proportion to the intensity of the moment when he'd looked up at her and blazed his way into her heart. How could she not have seen this coming? She'd been fascinated by him from the start, even in her most unbalanced state, because he was so different from Simon, so big and crude and earthy. But Miranda had changed him in some subtle way. Over these last months, when he'd been so distant, she'd spent countless hours watching him, wondering about him, cataloging him. It almost seemed if she'd been waiting…waiting for him to break, to show her who and what he really was.

Jayne noticed her looking at him and quirked an eyebrow in insolent inquiry. She jerked her eyes away quickly. So much for his earlier pleasantry toward her.

"A spittoon?" Simon was laughing, shaking his head in amazement. "I didn't even realize those things still existed."

"'Course you didn't, _bao bei_," Kaylee reached over and patted his hand.

"And then here comes our little albatross – flyin' like one, too, in _my _mule, which the cost of fixin' any damage is comin' outta your cut, by the way, darlin' – and she slams into this balcony and skids across the damned thing, knockin' out most a Spanky's gang."

There were exclamations of amazement.

"River!" Simon admonished. "That was too reckless!"

"She knew what she was doin'," Jayne said gruffly.

A defense of River from that quarter was unusual enough to raise some eyebrows. Jayne saw Inara and Zoë looking at him in surprise and felt compelled to explain.

"Ain't saying it weren't crazy, just, ya know, she calculated the velocitile projection an' all."

"Ah," nodded Simon archly.

River elbowed him surreptitiously under the table and shot him a _be nice_ frown. She couldn't help but look at Jayne again, a grateful smile hovering around her mouth, but he wasn't interested in making eye contact. Feeling foolish, River sank down in her chair a little bit.

"Well, her 'velocitile projection' saved our asses today," Mal lifted his glass to River.

"There was a twenty percent probability that you would have managed to extricate yourself from the situation, but not without sustaining significant bodily damage," River informed him earnestly.

"Good thing I didn't have to rely on no measly twenty percent," Mal grinned. "I had you and your acrobatics and nifty gun-tossin' abilities to up my odds."

"Gun-tossin'?" Zoë asked curiously.

"You all haven't heard the best bit. Before the thing even stops, River _somersaults_ out the mule, throwin' Vera to Jayne and takin' up a crossfire position like they been practicing this trick for months. For a minute there I imagined myself the leader of some fearsome commandos, not a little girl and a beaten-up old merc." Mal shook his head with a slightly baffled laugh.

Jayne's chair came down with a thump, and a stormy look crossed his face.

"I can't imagine that Jayne let anyone else even touch his Vera." Kaylee giggled. "You're movin' up in the world, Riv."

River felt uneasy. Jayne's good mood seemed to have fled completely, and River sensed that Mal had gone from genial sarcasm to something a little…hostile. Repeating the story had reminded him that he had been disturbed by that display on the balcony, even though he himself did not fully understand why.

"There was no _lettin_' involved. I wouldn'ta had to rely on… no little girl if Mal hadn't taken away _every single one_ of my weapons," Jayne growled angrily, shooting a resentful glance at the captain.

"Oh, come on, Jayne," Zoë chuckled. "You tellin' me you didn't sneak anything past him? Not even those little throwin' knives you always clip inside your boots?"

"He found 'em," Jayne griped.

"That belt buckle with the knife hidden in it?" Kaylee asked.

"Didn't wear it."

"What about that little graphite snub-nosed pistol you always got in that breast pocket of your vest?" Zoë put in.

Jayne blinked suddenly.

"You did well enough with a pool cue and a spittoon," Mal drawled. "No shame in lettin' River take some credit."

"That ain't it," Jayne muttered tersely, almost to himself, and shoved away from the table.

"Where you goin'?" Mal demanded.

"The mule's stowed and my chores are done. What business is it of yours?"

"I just thought since River was takin' Zoë's turn with clean-up tonight, you might want to give her a hand, seein' as how you two are workin' together so well nowadays." Mal's tone was slightly caustic.

Why are you pressing him? River wondered unhappily. Mal's intentions were swirling around in shades of grey, purple and red. Jayne's compliment in the cargo bay, heard but not seen, was flittering through his memory. Owlet? _Owlet_? Mal was perplexed, and Mal did not appreciate being perplexed. Mal was …probing.

Jayne just laughed. "Right." He started to turn away, but Mal's next words stopped him.

"I'm serious," Mal replied. And he was. "Least you could do, Jayne, seein' as how she saved your worthless life today." Mal had meant that to sound slightly more humorous than it came out, but he wasn't sorry.

There was a sudden pall as the others picked up on the tension in the atmosphere. It became clear to River that for some reason Mal was trying to make Jayne a little angry…at _her_. He wanted to see how Jayne reacted to the thought of helping _her_. She pushed inside a bit, and saw that moment on the balcony again, through Mal's eyes. She saw the intensity that had streamed between her and the merc. Had it been that palpable? Had it possibly been – she sucked in a tiny breath – _mutual_?

The whole room filled with discomfort, and Kaylee shifted uneasily, tryin' to figure on why the captain had gone from Malcolm the charmer to Malcolm the hardass in two beats. River could feel their general puzzlement, wondering why the mood had changed so abruptly. How to explain that it was, perversely, Mal's pride in Jayne that had caused this? That those feelings of camaraderie and brotherly affection had caused a small alarm in the captain because he still didn't entirely trust his hired gun? That he was looking for something…suspicious…because this was Jayne, after all, and there was always that threat of an interestin' day on the horizon? She bit the side of her lip. If she tried to say anything it would only make matters worse.

Zoë pushed herself out of her chair awkwardly, purposely putting a physical barrier between the two men.

"Just 'cause I'm round don't mean I can't carry a plate or two. It's Jayne and River earned a rest, sir." She began to pile plates and silverware.

"No, Zoë, please, I volunteered –" River stood up also, trying to wave Zoë back down.

"We can all help…" Inara offered calmly.

"Sure, I'll help the moonbrain," Jayne said tightly, spearing a bitter glance at River. "I'm all about – what's that word, now? Reciprocity?"

"Jayne used a five syllable word," Simon uttered faintly. Jayne ignored the jibe, invested in his silent altercation with Mal.

Mal's eyes were hooded as he studied Jayne, and River sensed his satisfaction at having reinstated the status quo. "Good to know."

&&&&&&&

They worked in silence, moving back and forth from dining room to kitchen. River looked at the mess that Simon created and gave an inward groan. His meals were always complicated, always perfectly nutritionally balanced, and almost always awful.

Jayne was banging the pot and pans around loudly, releasing his aggression on the cookware. The rest of the crew had fled for calmer waters as soon as possible.

"The captain's in his bunk waving Badger …you don't have to help anymore." River brought in the last of the cups and serving bowls.

"Let's just get it done," Jayne said shortly.

"Really, you don't…"

"You tryin' to make me into a liar now?" he turned away from her.

"What did I make you into before?" River paused to ask, genuinely curious.

"Shut up and go do somethin'."

River sighed and went to wipe the table down. She could hear Jayne's _sotto voce_ litany of the usual River insults over the counter as she worked. He'd throw in a curse at Mal for variety every once in a while.

When she finished she went back into the kitchen and saw Jayne trying to force the biggest pot into the dishwasher. It had to go in a certain way, or it would dent the sides, and possibly break the rack. River had worked out the precise angle of the handles for the pot to fit comfortably.

"Here, let me help…" she reached out and tried to adjust the pot. To her surprise, Jayne wrenched it away angrily.

"I think I been doin' dishes a hell of lot longer than you, _little girl_. I don't need your help." His eyes were hot blue pools.

"But you're doing it wrong." River said stubbornly, wrenching the pot back.

"Like there's a wrong way to put a pot in the washer." Wrench.

"There is, and you've managed to discover it." Wrench.

"Let go a the gorram pot!"

"You let go!"

They each had a handle of the pot and they were yanking it back and forth across the open door of the dishwasher like a double-handled saw. River knew this was completely ridiculous and childish, but he was _wrong_. Wrong to be angry at her, wrong to be so resentful of her, wrong to be so frustratingly attractive, and wrong about the stupid _pot_.

Suddenly he said, "Fine!" and released his side. River, still pulling, lost her balance and fell back against the counter. The pot clattered to the floor as she scrabbled for a hand hold, letting out a cry of pain as her palm came down on a large knife that had been left on the cutting board.

She lifted her shaking hand, seeing the blood well up quickly from a long gash that bisected the plump skin of her _flexor retinaculum_, watching as the blood laced down and across her pale wrist.

"Damaged," she whispered, and stared at the redness of the blood. Damaged, that's what they'd called her when they'd dragged her, trailing blood, into the emergency room at the Academy. _The subject has damaged herself_…and River had tried to explain…not damaged, but like the doomed Taniyama, merely unconfident in her future. She looked up at Jayne, her pupils dilated. "Cast no dark shadows…"

Jayne's face was blank with shock, and then he reached for her, grabbing her wrist and looking for something to wrap the wound in.

"Fucking Simon," he growled as he tugged open the drawer where the dishcloths were stored and saw that there were no clean ones left. The blood dripped down River's arm and onto the floor, making neat, precise little circles in a polka dot pattern.

Frustrated, Jayne hauled his t-shirt up and wrapped her palm in the soft material, pressing down with the fingers of his other hand and making River hiss in pain. She welcomed the sensation, though, because it brought her forcibly back to the here and now. Jayne kept up the firm pressure for a minute, until it looked like the blood had stopped spreading through the pale grey cloth.

"Lemme see now," Jayne said gently, and spread the material open to look at the cut that ran diagonally down her palm, to the top of her wrist. She saw his face tightened as he realized how close it had come to her artery. The gash was long, but fairly shallow, and the bleeding had already turned sluggish.

"That ain't nothin' but a scratch…a little of the doc's dermabond and you won't even know it was ever there tomorrow," he patted guiltily at the cut with the hem of his t-shirt. River's hand jerked with each little dab at the tender skin.

River looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and they both realized how close they were standing to one another. River could feel the warmth of his hands through the thin lining of his shirt, and her pain faded away. There was a brief moment of breathless anticipation, and then Jayne eased back.

"You all right now, crazy?" he asked gruffly.

"Your t-shirt is ruined." River said fretfully, trying not to let her disappointment show.

"S'all right. Not the first one you've wrecked. Here." He reached back one big hand and pulled the material over his head, pulling out first one arm, then the other, very gingerly. He enveloped her little fist in the plentiful cloth and stepped away.

"Jayne…" River's eyes widened. His right upper abdomen and his right side were a mass of bruises, including some raised hematomas. She reached out her unwrapped hand toward the angry reddish blue welts, but he moved aside jerkily.

"Have you seen Simon?" She stood very still. She was not the only one who was damaged.

"Don't need to. I got pain killers from the last time." He took one of the dirty dishtowels from the sink and crouched to wipe up the blood splatters on the floor. "Now git along, and have your brother take care a that before you make another mess."

"Jayne…"

"I'll finish up here." He picked up the pot off the floor and stared at it for a second before glancing at River with a flicker of rueful amusement in his eyes. "Think I'll wash this one by hand."

&&&&&&&&&&&

**A/N: **Hmm. Took me seven chapters to get Jayne partially unclothed. Must be losing my edge. ::grin:: The "Damaged" line is my tribute to one of my favorite Rayne songs and frequent inspiration: "Damaged" by Plummet. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and reviewing! Gem


	8. Dark and Bright

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter Eight: Dark and Bright

River sat on the darkened bridge, curled up in the pilot's seat. She was accessing the cortex and the flat screen was glowing faintly, casting a green pall over her skin.

She scrutinized the information on the vid, a compilation of works regarding 20th century mathematicians. She'd stopped the cursor at _No Dark Shadows: The Life of Yukata Taniyama _by Tam, R.

She was still deciding whether or not she was going to access the material when she felt Simon on the way. He was restless and a little agitated about Zoë's last examination and wanted to talk. She turned her head as he approached, ready to give him a welcoming look.

"Busy?" he queried, pausing at the doorway.

"Not really. You wanted to talk about Zoë?"

Simon laughed, a little chagrined, and came in hesitantly. He always entered the bridge as if it were for the first time. These were not the machines or the technology he understood, and he found them intimidating. He turned and leaned casually against the console, his back to the windscreen. Simon never liked looking out into the black.

"She's dilated to almost three centimeters. It's not going to be too long before she goes into active labor."

"That's good news," River smiled. She couldn't wait to meet the baby.

"Ah, River…you haven't felt…can you tell…" Simon shifted his slight weight a little and folded his arms almost defensively. "Is Zoë comfortable having me as her obstetrician? Does she wish… do you think we should head for the nearest sign of civilization and try and find a qualified hospital?"

River shook her head confidently. These were Simon's fears, not Zoë's.

"Zoë is _fine_ with you. She wouldn't trust anyone else, Simon. She wants to have the baby here, on Serenity."

"I've managed to pick up some instruments and a neonatal diagnostic program, but there are just so many things that can go wrong…"

"Everything will be fine." River reassured him.

"Do you 'know' that?" He looked at her searchingly.

River shook her head. "Not yet. But I 'know' you."

"And Zoë is all right with me?" His anxiety brought the conversation full circle.

"_Yes_."

"You're sure?" He ran a nervous hand through his silky dark brown hair.

"Positive. She does wish that you'd use more warming gel when you do the sonic scans, though." River told him, straight-faced.

"Really?" he blinked in consternation. "I thought I was adequately covering the…" He caught the gleam in her eye and realized she was winding him up. He bumped her chair with his hip in retaliation, grinning reluctantly. "Still a brat."

River suppressed a laugh.

"So what are you up to? How's the hand?" he asked idly, leaning sideways to look at the vid screen.

River glanced at her palm. Jayne had been right; the cut had healed so cleanly and quickly that three days later there was barely a scar. "Fine."

"Oh, my god. Your Taniyama bio. I'd completely forgotten about that," Simon's mouth hung open in amazement as he stared at the screen. He switched his gaze to meet hers. "It was published only a few months after you left for the Academy."

River nodded. "I'd been at the Academy for three months. They had great pride in announcing the work…it added verisimilitude to their claims of excellence and exclusivity." Her mouth twisted.

"Mother and Father were proud, too. I remember Father had copies printed on paper and bound in real leather. He gave them to his business associates as New Year gifts," Simon recalled.

River's smile only had a tinge of bitterness. "Did he read it?"

Simon's face blanked. "I'm sure he –" He began to defend his father almost out of habit.

"Simon." River chided him gently. "I know neither of them did."

"Well, _I_ read it. Never was the hunt for Fermat's Last Theorem so thrillingly recounted!" He tried to lighten the moment. "I finished it at three in morning and wrote to you immediately. Do you remember the letter?"

River shook her head quickly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

"They had a party in my honor the evening it was published. The whole school was invited. Champagne and canapés. I was so happy; I felt so _appreciated_. The very next morning, I was culled from my class, along with Jean-Luc Marseillet and Argonne Daeta. They told us our genius and creative promise elevated us to an even more selective program," she paused. "I never saw either of them again."

"River…" Simon's voice ached. He radiated a mixture of horror, anger and sympathy.

"It's all right, Simon," she put a hand on his arm. "It's over; I'm here, I'm safe." She gave him a comforting smile. "No more dark shadows for me."

Simon seemed to hesitate. She knew what was in his mind. He was her doctor as well as her brother, and he'd done countless full body scans on her. Sophisticated flesh weaves that were invisible to the naked eye would be revealed there. He'd seen the evidence of her desperation, but he didn't want to admit what he'd seen. She remembered what he had said to her when she wanted to end it all after the incident at the Maidenhead. Simon would never willingly seek death, not unless all other options had been exhausted. By natural inclination and by training, he would always fight for life, especially for those he loved.

"You tried to commit suicide, didn't you? At the Academy?" he asked quietly.

River nodded slowly. She wondered if this was the essential difference between them, why one was so coveted, the other rejected, by their parents. Had they sensed her darkness, even then? She tried to explain.

"I felt my mind slipping away…out of my control. They could make me do things…" she trailed away. Not nice things. "They cut up all my food. One of the orderlies left a plastic dinner knife on the tray by mistake. I tried to gouge out my wrists, and when that seemed too slow, I sawed open my carotid artery. But they managed to keep me alive."

Simon spun the chair out and crouched in front of her, his arms sliding around her protectively. He leaned in and hugged her gingerly, as if she were too delicate to sustain full body contact.

"_Mei mei_," he whispered against her shoulder. "This is selfish of me, since I know what you suffered at their hands, but I'm so glad they did."

"The orderly… they killed him for that. For forgetting the knife," River added hollowly. Another death on her conscience. It was no wonder she had gone insane.

"That was not your fault!" Simon responded immediately, as always leaping to her defense.

River smiled through a misting of tears. Dear Simon…she stroked the back of his head.

"Do you ever still…" he couldn't seem to get the question out, but she knew what he was asking.

"No," she answered immediately. She had too much to live for now. She had Simon, her newfound family, the baby coming, Serenity, and… her raw and unsettled feelings for a certain obstinate, violent, foul-mouthed mercenary.

"No, Simon," she reconfirmed, and kissed the top of his head. "I'm here to stay."

River closed her eyes and let the reassuring thrum of Serenity convince her that was true.

&&&&&&&&&

The chubby wooden farm animals had come out to play. The little barnyard shapes that Jayne had carved over the last few months were spread out on a tarp that covered one side of the dining room table, and he was painting them various bright colors.

Kaylee was bent over the table, peering at the figures closely.

"Is this a…bear?"

"Cow."

"Giraffe?" she pointed at one with a longish neck.

"Horse!" Jayne snapped, offended.

Kaylee giggled. "Just funnin' ya, is all. These are really cute, Jayne."

He looked at her suspiciously.

"They are, aren't they, Riv?" Kaylee looked over at River for support.

"Yes," River smiled, sitting on the steps leading to the crew quarters and the bridge, her drawing pad on her lap. "Zoë and the baby will love them." She was pretending to be sketching, but she was really just enjoying watching Jayne work on the toys.

Since the pot incident he'd reverted back to ignoring her for the most part, but there were times when River would catch him averting his eyes just as she turned her head, and once when she was coming across the catwalk he had stopped his chin-ups and just hung there, as if he couldn't concentrate when she was near. She vacillated between joy at any perceived partiality in his glance, and despair when he would march past her as if she didn't exist.

"I wired together a little 'com system for Zoë so she could listen for the baby anywhere on the ship," Kaylee said, picking up a little pink pig that had already dried. "I'd like to make somethin' real sweet like these, though. What about you, River? Did you make anything for the baby?"

"I made a mobile for the baby's crib. Clouds and rainbows and dinosaurs." She felt the sudden hush and looked up to see them staring at her. "Is that not appropriate?"

"I think it's perfect," Kaylee said softly. River could feel fond memories of Wash and his dinosaurs flood Kaylee's mind. The mechanic rubbed her thumb thoughtfully over the small pig's snout. "These little guys need faces, Jayne." She picked up a cow and waggled the two animals at each other. "How they gonna talk to each other if they ain't got faces? Are you gonna paint 'em on?"

He shrugged. "Never really thought on it. I was just gonna leave 'em like that."

"River can paint 'em! She's the best artist on the ship. You'd do that, wouldn't you, River?" Kaylee suggested eagerly. River could sense that Kaylee thought there was some still kind of rift between them, and was using this as an opportunity to get them comfortable with each other again.

"Certainly," River said slowly. She was about to say, "I'd be happy to help," but remembered Jayne's knee-jerk reaction to her 'help.'

"Well, come on over here and sit down and get started, Miss Tam," the mechanic sang out. "No time to lose." Kaylee pointed at the chair next to Jayne's on the tarp-covered side of the table.

"The rugrat ain't gonna need 'em comin' down the birth canal, Kaylee," Jayne gave a snorting laugh.

"Yeah, but they'll cheer Zoë up, and Simon says that labor could start any minute now." She pulled out the chair for River.

Simon was correct. River had felt spastic hums of energy from the pregnant woman all morning, and currently Zoë was in the nursery, Simon and River's old passenger dorm, deep in the throes of her nesting instinct: washing the walls, arranging the crib and other baby paraphernalia, stacking diapers, folding and refolding the tiny baby clothes that had been carefully selected and purchased whenever they'd landed at a place that carried a suitable selection. It wouldn't be long before those infrequent contractions elevated into full-blown labor.

River looked mutely at Jayne, checking his reaction to Kaylee's idea. He gave a tiny shrug, as if it didn't matter at all to him. She put her sketch pad to the side of the stairs, stood up and walked to the table, then slid diffidently into a chair at his right. It was the closest that she'd been to him since he'd held her bleeding hand against his chest in the kitchen four days ago.

She picked up a sheep. It really was cute. "Do you want a lot of detail, or should I just keep it simple?" she asked.

"Don't really care. Whatever you think looks good." Jayne was suddenly painting very industriously, as if he wanted to finish in a hurry.

"Well, I'm gonna go check on Zo'," Kaylee said brightly, patting River's shoulder before she left the room, humming.

"Will you pass me a brush and the can of black paint?" River asked nervously.

"I'm a little preoccupied here, genius," he frowned, indicating that he had his hands full.

"Right. Sorry." River half stood and leaned across his workspace to collect the materials she needed. The wave of her long, dark hair swept perilously close to the bright yellow duck Jayne was painting and he twitched back in reaction.

"Sorry!" She repeated.

He shook his head a little and took the opportunity to edge his chair a little further away.

She placed the little can of black paint to one side and used a little angled brush to dab the necessary details to the sheep.

"Like this?" she held it up to show him and he nodded briefly.

They worked together silently for a few minutes, with River adding dots and curves and swirls to approximate faces, tails and other elements on the animals. Soon she'd exhausted the pile of dry animals. Since she didn't have anything else to do but watch him, she indulged herself fully.

He had big hands, but they worked deftly and confidently. The little animals that would be oversized and safe for the baby to play with some day were dwarfed by those hands. He had eschewed wearing gloves, and his skin was daubed here and there with paint. He liked to feel the wood, sanded so carefully smooth, sliding through his fingers, she thought. He liked the smell of the paint and the bright colors. He appreciated the actuality of things. Someday she would ask him who taught him to whittle like that.

Her eyes wandered from his hands up his well-muscled arms to his strong shoulders and neck. He'd obviously shaved this morning, since there were a few nicks surrounding the circle of his goatee. She wondered what he would look like clean-shaven. Not like Jayne, at any event. She liked his mouth, and his nose, too – there was a little dent halfway down, probably the result of some bar brawl. The bruise under his left eye had paled to a vague spidery yellow, still kind of attractive and manly-looking. She hoped the bruises on his body had faded as much.

His eyes were so pretty…bright blue, with so many expressions: disgust, aggression, excitement, amusement, guile, and every once in a while, something that took her breath away. Oh, and irritation. Like right now.

"Want to get a move on, crazy?" he asked sarcastically, jerking his elbow at the little pile of animals. He was finished, and was wiping his hands off with a rag.

River started. Had she really just been sitting there gawking at him?

"Oh, yes," she mumbled and reached for a little yellow chick. Suddenly a wave of energy pulsated through her. "Oh!" She pushed to her feet abruptly, knocking over her chair, only seconds before they heard Kaylee's excited yelp for Simon from downstairs.

She turned to Jayne, beautiful blue eyes now alarmed, her own eyes shining with anticipation.

"It's starting!"

&&&&&&&&&&

**A/N:** _Dark_: I find little River trapped at the Academy unutterably sad. Simon is such a hero for saving her. _Bright_: Major Jayne crushing going on here, lol. Next up: BABY! Thanks for reading and so much for reviewing! Gem


	9. The Touch of Hands

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 9: The Touch of Hands

It came as a surprise to everyone that Zoë's labor was difficult, because Zoë did almost everything so competently and with such self-sufficient poise they naturally assumed the birthing process would be much the same.

Fourteen hours of labor, six of them hard labor, had failed to dilate Zoë's cervix sufficiently to begin pushing, and even the warrior woman was starting to flag.

River sensed that it was not only physical exhaustion that was debilitating Zoë, but also her grief, honed to an excruciating point by the knowledge that Wash would never see their child. He had never even known he was going to be a father, and that was what pained Zoë the most…because she had strongly suspected, and said nothing. It had in no way entered her mind during their conflict with the operative that Wash, gentle, funny, pragmatic Wash, would precede her in death. Zoë had thought that if she were killed in battle with the reavers or the Alliance, it would be better that Wash not have the additional burden of grieving for the small spark of life within her, snuffed out so prematurely. Zoë's regret for that decision lay in her conscience like a stone, a burden that sapped her will and her strength and her resolve. River ached with sympathy for her.

Even so, Zoë coped with each contraction while retaining as much of her stoic demeanor as possible, her only signs of pain the small furrow between her brows, her rapid breathing, and her elegant hands twisting the edge of her light blanket into tight, damp knots. Her most recent contractions were still quite intense, but the timing had begun to waver. Sometimes they would come every few minutes, sometimes as far apart as seven minutes. River could feel Simon's growing consternation that Zoë's labor was stalling. The thought of having to perform a caesarian section was troubling him, since he hadn't even assisted at one in years.

"That was a good one, Zo'," Kaylee murmured as the latest contraction eased. She offered Zoë some ice shavings on a spoon to relieve her dry mouth. "You know Simon can give you somethin' for the pain anytime you want."

"No drugs," Zoë answered raggedly after she let the welcome coldness melt on her tongue. "I want to do what's best for the baby."

"You're doing wonderfully, Zoë," Inara said from the other side, sponging Zoë's forehead with lavender-scented water. The Companion flashed an exhausted look at River, standing at the end of the bed. They'd all been in the infirmary almost constantly since Zoë's water broke yesterday.

Moving to the other side of Kaylee, Simon leant one hand on the bed frame and bent down a little so that he and Zoë could talk more comfortably. His expression was sober, but calm and collected. River was so proud of him; _she _knew his gnawing anxiety, but no one else would ever be able to tell.

"There comes a time when _not_ having a completely depleted mother is what's best for the baby, Zoë. I want to avoid a c-section if possible, so you're still going to have to push…and that's going to take a lot out of you. We don't want either you or your uterus exhausted at that point. You're fully effaced, and almost eight centimeters dilated. Perhaps now would be the time to administer a short course of pitocin. It's that synthetic hormone we talked about, do you remember? It's an old-fashioned method, but the risks are relatively few, especially at this stage of labor. The baby's heartbeat is still strong, it's at station, and the placenta is sound…although the contractions with the pitocin may be more painful, they will speed up dilatation and help bring your beautiful baby into the world as quickly as possible." He reached out and clasped Zoë's hand in his encouragingly.

Zoë closed her eyes and nodded, swallowing. "If you think it's right." She licked her parched lips. "I can handle pain." She tightened her hand around his in return.

"I know you can, _jie jie,_" Simon replied quietly, with tender pride. "No one better."

His words hung in the quiet of the room.

River caught her breath at Simon's subtle but poignant acknowledgment of the suffering Zoë had gone through since Miranda, and the tremendous courage she'd displayed in all the long, lonely days since. These two had grown so much closer, especially in these last few months as Zoë's prenatal care had escalated. Simon had called Zoë his _jie jie_, his older sister, and it rang true.

Kaylee's mouth trembled little bit, and she and Inara shared a teary glance before Inara had to turn her head away slightly, trying to regain her composure.

A very wry, very Zoë smile lifted the first mate's lips as she looked up at Simon.

"So you finally learned how to talk to people." River saw a faint gleam of moisture in Zoë's eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen Zoë even come close to crying.

"Finally. But I had help," he admitted, glancing at Kaylee before meeting Zoë's gaze with a suspiciously bright one of his own.

"Wash would be proud," Zoë said with a shaky laugh. It was the first time his name had been mentioned since she had gone into labor. With the spoken words an unrecognized tension had been broken, bringing sadness, but also relief.

"He would," Simon nodded solemnly, and they all knew he wasn't referring to himself. Very gently, he lifted Zoë's hand and pressed a kiss to her smooth skin before he surrendered it to Kaylee.

"I'll get that hypo ready," he murmured, and walked across the room to the medicine cabinet.

Kaylee grinned down mistily at Zoë and gave her palm a little squeeze. "All right?"

Zoë nodded, her expression of melancholic amusement wilting away as she felt her belly hardening for the next contraction. River could feel her dread as she waited for the familiar aching agony to crest. Wordlessly, Zoë turned to Inara, and took her right hand for support, and then looked to River. Inara understood immediately, and reached out to the younger woman. River hesitated, until she felt Zoë's warm reassurance slip into her mind. _Not your fault, little one, and I never blamed you, never. _River took Inara's hand, her lips lifting in a tremulous smile, and clasped Kaylee's small, strong fingers on the other side, completing the circle.

The women of Serenity, bound by flesh and love and loss, faced the pain as one.

&&&&&&&&&&

Two hours later the proximity alarm sounded, and River left the infirmary reluctantly to attend to it, especially now that they were all actually needed. Zoë was having pushing contractions, and River and Kaylee had been helping to provide stability at her shoulders or her knees as Inara administered coaching and emotional comfort. Simon said it wouldn't be long, now.

She knew that they were entering the Shuriken, the asteroid belt that circled between the orbits of Eldora and Kyphon, and was generally thought to be the demarcation between Core and Rim planets. She'd set a course avoiding the orbital paths of any known objects, but various possibilities for the alarm came to mind. They were set to pass close to a dwarf planet in the belt, G2-588, which was home to a mining facility that processed ore from captured asteroids. The proximity alarm might be related to space traffic from that, but was it more likely from an asteroid that had changed orbit due to accretion or collision.

She found Mal leaning with his arms folded just outside the infirmary door, his expression taut with worry.

"How is she? What's happening?" Mal straightened up as River slid the door shut behind her. Inara had been giving him regular updates, but no one had been out in a while.

"Zoë is cervix is fully effaced and dilated and she's experiencing pushing contractions," River answered, trying to move around him.

Mal blocked her with his body, throwing up his hands and shaking his head in a "you might as well be speakin' Greek" manner.

"Don't know what that all means; don't really care to. Seems like this is takin' way longer than it took that Petaline, and this is _Zoë_. Shouldn't I be hearin' some… yellin'?" What Mal was really asking was if something had gone terribly wrong.

"It's different for every woman. Simon gave Zoë some medicine to help her labor progress, and it appears to have helped." River reassured him calmly. "Zoë is remarkably strong, but as she tires and the baby gets closer to birth, I'm sure she will gratify you with some voluble expressions of pain and effort."

"Pain? Why does she need to be in pain? Doesn't the doc know what he's doing? Isn't there some kind of drug he can give her?" Mal paced back toward the shuttered windows of the infirmary, and then turned right back around like a restless tiger in a cage.

"There are many, but Zoë has chosen not to take them at this time. She prefers a more natural method. It's better for the baby." River found Mal's concern for Zoë rather endearing.

"Natural? There ain't nothin' natural about havin' a baby nearly two AUs from the nearest gorram planet!" Mal was trying not to think of the horror stories he'd heard of interplanetary birth difficulties, and wishing they were closer to civilization.

River gave him a sympathetic smile. "Why don't you just go in and see her?"

Mal looked alarmed. "Hell, no. That's – that's – women's –" he stuttered to a halt.

"All will be well, Captain, unless, of course, we're about to fly into an ore trawler," River hinted, cupping a hand to her ear in a listening attitude.

Mal lifted his head, as if hearing the alarm for the first time.

"What? Oh, yeah, better check on that," he muttered, going back to leaning against the wall. River was almost astonished. She had never seen the captain so little interested in the welfare of the ship. His mind was trapped in a circle, revolving around worry for Zoë, apprehension about the birth, and what the baby would mean to the crew of Serenity, for good and ill.

River stifled a sigh and turned to run up the stairs to the bridge. She felt a sudden urgency coming from the infirmary, and knew that Zoë had finally begun to push through the last phase. Oh, no! She didn't want to miss the baby being born. Jayne, who'd pretty much kept to his bunk since Zoë's labor began, stuck his head out as she rushed past the crew quarters.

"What's goin' on?" He came up the ladder and trailed after her onto the bridge, glancing at the yellow light of the proximity alarm flashing, and then moving forward to look out the window. There was nothing visual to suggest what had triggered the alarm, but it would have to be an extremely large something indeed to be seen from this far out. River silenced the klaxon and consulted the flat panel of the nav screen. She tapped out the command for a refreshed telemetrical scan, waiting as patiently as possible for the results to load.

"It's an asteroid pair," she murmured as the data flashed across the board, pointing to the screen as Jayne came to peer over her shoulder. "They collided and broke from their previously established orbits…here…" she ran a fingertip across the listed coordinates.

"Big uns, too," Jayne commented from behind her, reading the volume and density indicators. Over the last few months, River had been surprised to discover how much he knew about navigation.

"Yes, but not a problem…" Her nimble fingers danced over the controls as she changed course. "Required correction is minimal." She listened for the distant hum of the thrusters as they burned on and off in the precise sequential pattern that would move Serenity safely out of the path of the rogue asteroids. She watched for the computer to confirm that course correction had been implemented. Satisfied, she quickly locked on the autopilot and reset the proximity alarm. She could sense a sudden spike in the energy coming from downstairs. It was happening… she had to get back to the infirmary _right now_!

"Uh, how's Zoë doin'?" Jayne asked then, seeing that she was finished and was probably on her way back downstairs. River wasn't even paying attention to him, so focused was she on the urgent signals coming through her mind.

She twisted around and surged out of the chair frantically, not realizing quite how closely Jayne was standing behind her. She ran smack into his rock-hard chest, and his hands went to her shoulders to steady her, just as the waves of energy intensified to an almost unbearable level.

"Zoë!" she cried out faintly, her eyes closing and her head dipping back as she swayed in reaction. River felt like she was losing consciousness as she was swept into the tidal wave of all the emotions running rampant through the ship. Fear, pain, elation, grief, joy, pride, and finally, a mother's infinite love as Zoë beheld her child for the first time… River's knees started to buckle, and Jayne's hands tightened on her arms.

" – gorram it, girl, why you always gotta have these fits when _I'm_ around –" Jayne's panicked complaining sounded distant and tinny through the roaring of her ears, before it faded away completely.

_River…River…River_…her name was reverberating quietly in time and space. Was she in the past, the present or the future? There was no way of knowing. She was cast adrift in the waves, sucked under by the riptide, tumbling through breakers, drowning. But she had to listen…someone was calling her back…strong hands were holding her…anchoring her…keeping her from floating away in the warm, dark sea. Slowly, she began to resurface.

"Girl!" Jayne's anxious tone had risen in volume and he was shaking her lightly, one arm now curved firmly behind her back to support her sagging body, one hand gripping her shoulder. "Answer me! You all right?"

River's eyes opened slowly and she stared up at him, his face rushing into focus in exquisite detail. Her heavy-lidded gaze drifted from the tight curve of his close-cropped hairline to the firm, pale stroke of his lower lip. He had a little scar on his right cheek about an inch from his mouth and she'd always wondered where it had come from. A slow, almost seductive smile bloomed across her delicate features as she felt the dizziness recede. She lifted her small hand and brushed her thumb over that little scar. Jayne stilled, and then drew in a sharp breath of air. Something…electrical…crackled between them. His hand tightened on her arm, and almost without volition, he began to draw her nearer.

"River! River!" It was Inara's calling, her voice ringing with joy. Her feet were pounding up the steps in excitement, coming closer. River had never heard or felt such naked emotion pour from the normally guarded Companion.

Jayne started and blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and with a haunted expression, he shoved her away and stepped back.

Before he could flee altogether, River lifted to her tiptoes and pecked a swift, tiny kiss to that irresistible scar. Jayne looked down at her, dumbfounded.

She smiled up at him shyly.

"Congratulations, Uncle Jayne. It's a boy!"

She laughed happily and ran to greet Inara with an ecstatic hug, leaving Jayne standing there, momentarily stunned.

&&&&&&

**Science:**

**AUs** astronomical units, the distance between the axis of earth's orbit around the sun, or approximately 93 million miles/150 million kilometers in our solar system…who knows what it would be in the 'verse. Far.

**A/N**: Yes, I like hands, literally and symbolically, lol. We get to meet our little Washburne in the next chapter.

**crazylizzie**: This is really River's story, journey, what have you, so probably no Jayne POV. We'll have to figure out what's going on with him by what he says and does (and to whom). ::wink:: Some of the next flashbacks will be from Simon's POV, and there might be some more Mal POV, since that's kinda fun. I know where we're headed, but not how we'll get there, if you know what I mean.

Thanks to all for reading and the nice reviews! Gem


	10. Eight

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 10: Eight 

Kaylee moved cautiously into the sitting area, a little bundle wrapped in a yellow and white cotton blanket held protectively against her chest. The bundle squirmed slightly and made some small, squeaky noises. Kaylee, enchanted, looked up reluctantly as River ran excitedly down the stairs, followed more sedately by Inara and then Jayne.

The mechanic's golden brown eyes were shining as she tilted the wrapped infant so that they could see his little face.

"We got us a baby!" She squealed in hushed awe.

"Ohhhh!' River exclaimed in adoration as she saw the baby for the first time. He was so cute, but…oh dear…

"Ugh!" Jayne interjected almost simultaneously, jerking back in surprise. "What the hell happened to its head?"

"Don't let Zoë hear you!" Inara hissed at him furiously. "It's perfectly normal for the head to be a little elongated like that right after birth! It'll go away soon."

"Normal or not, kid still looks like a gorram alien," Jayne insisted, retreating from the baby a little bit, his expression distrustful and more than a little creepified. "Its - its eyes are … _followin_' me," he whispered.

The baby's dark eyes blinked their puffy lids in sleepy puzzlement – _who the hell are all you people?_ – and he pursed his tiny mouth in a tiny circle, causing the women to coo excitedly.

"He's perfectly lovely," River breathed. "Fresh baby! Look at his little fingers!" She fawned over his miniscule hand, and then touched the tip of a gentle finger to the tiny bump of a nose in the middle of the baby's dusky red, wrinkled face. It made River smile to see little tufts of fair hair, still damp from Kaylee's wipe down, peeking out from under the blanket. "He's got blond hair!"

"You think he looks more like Wash or Zoë?" Kaylee asked River.

"Looks more like an alien," Jayne muttered. They ignored him.

"I can't tell, yet. He's so quiet. Has he cried at all?" River wondered. Wasn't it normal for babies to cry when they were born? Was something wrong? She didn't sense any sort of anxiety from Simon or Zoë.

Inara and Kaylee both laughed.

"Has he!" Inara remarked with a curious smile. "I can't believe you two didn't hear him upstairs!"

We were – distracted, River thought. Without raising her head she looked for Jayne. When their eyes met, he turned away uneasily. River wondered with an ache of disappointment exactly what would have happened if Inara hadn't decided to come and find her.

Mal came out of the infirmary with a rapid pace to his step, looking harassed.

"Uh, Kaylee, Simon needs you in there again. Right now."

"Probably for the episiotomy," Inara said serenely.

Mal winced. "That would be it."

"Oh, okay." Kaylee turned to River and held the baby out a little. "You want to hold him while I help Simon?"

River shook her head quickly and stepped back. "He's so little…" She didn't trust herself yet with anything so tiny and fragile. She was more comfortable with big things: spaceships, and…battle axes.

"Let's take him back to Zoë, Kaylee. Even if she can't hold him right now it will help her to see him." Inara held out her arms, and Kaylee carefully transferred the baby into them.

"Hey," Jayne called as they went into the infirmary, "she pick out a name yet?"

"Yes," Inara said unhelpfully, still annoyed with him, just as Kaylee closed the door behind them.

"Well, what is it?" Jayne demanded in frustration. He looked at Mal. "Do you know? I hope to god it ain't Simon."

"S'worse," Mal said with studied gloom. "I tried to talk her out of it."

"So it's Malcolm, then?" Jayne asked sardonically, lifting an eyebrow.

Mal sighed dramatically. "Never thought a woman would be that cruel to her child, but seein' as how you two have gotten so close as of late…"

River suppressed a smile. She knew what Zoë had decided months ago if the baby was a boy. She watched as Jayne took the bait, his eyes lighting up in pleased surprise.

"You ain't sayin'…?" Jayne began slowly, and River could almost see him mouthing 'Li'l Jayne' to himself. Suddenly his narrowed gaze swept from Mal to River, and he made a sound of disgust. "Naw. Crazy here can't keep a straight face for nothin'. What is it really?"

River's surprise was reflected in her expression. Was she that easy to read?

Mal grinned. "Don't play no tall card with him, River."

"No one ever invites me to play, anyway," she shrugged.

"That would be because you can read their minds, darlin'."

River looked at Jayne. Not his, she thought. All she got from him was pure emotion, and that, rarely.

"Name a Zoë's baby?" Jayne prodded, making a rolling motion with his hand, indicating that Mal should get on with it.

"The reality is almost as bad as Little Jayne. I mean, the man can't have liked it. It ain't a coincidence that even I didn't know exactly what it was before I saw it on his gravemarker…" Mal mused.

"Derrial?" Jayne guessed, exasperated.

Mal relented, shaking his head with a laugh. "It really ain't never even crossed your mind, Jayne? You just met little Hoban Washburne, Jr."

&&&&&&

It was dim and strangely quiet in the infirmary after all the excitement of the last twenty-four hours. River was dozing in the second bed, on call for Zoë and the baby. She was going to spend the first part of the night there in case either of them needed anything. Kaylee had fallen asleep sitting up on the couch, and Simon had carried her to bed in Shepherd Book's former quarters. He intended to stay awake himself, until Inara shooed him off to join Kaylee with the promise that either she or River would wake him instantly if necessary. River had volunteered for first watch, and Inara said she would take the second.

Currently Mal was visiting Zoë, having waited patiently outside while Zoë nursed the baby. Now the captain was walking the contented infant around the room, held securely in his strong arms. River blinked and listened sleepily to their desultory conversation.

"You look strangely comfortable with a baby in your arms, sir," Zoë said with a worn-out smile.

"Well, I'm just naturally very nurturing," Mal answered, gazing down bemusedly into the baby's peacefully sleeping face. He rocked the infant gently. "Ain't I just?"

There was a small silence, and River tensed, suddenly wide awake. She knew what Zoë was going to say.

"I know you didn't want this," Zoë began, working hard to keep her voice even. "I know you didn't want a baby on the ship."

Mal studied her, noticing how weak and disheveled she seemed propped up against the pillows of the infirmary cot. Now that the crisis of the birth was over, her appearance disturbed him, and made him uncomfortable. She looked older, like…like somebody's mother.

"I really didn't," he admitted frankly. He thought of Nandi, when she told him he didn't like complications. A baby was definitely a complication.

Zoë met his eyes straight on, determined to get things out in the open.

"I waved Wash's sister. You remember, Fiona. Lives on Aten. Thought it was only right that she know about the baby comin' along."

"Yeah?" Mal asked warily, with an inkling of where this might be going.

"Her husband is some high stakes man in the Commodities Guild, and… they ain't hurtin' for credits. She offered us a home, sir. Me, and the baby," Zoë informed him quietly, watching the captain for his reaction. River could feel her great inner stress, and marveled that she had such self-control even after such an exhausting day.

River experienced the rush of feelings that coursed through the captain: anger, grief, betrayal, guilt. Zoë was his constant, his touchstone, his closest friend. He didn't want to lose her, but he didn't think that it was fair or right to make her try and raise a baby on a ship of thieves, either. Ship of fools, more like, he thought to himself. He contemplated the dangers that they faced all too frequently. He looked down at the warm bundle of life in his arms. Wash's son. Wash's _son_. How could he promise to protect the son, when he had failed so spectacularly at protecting the father?

River clasped her hand to throat, feeling the intense pain. Tears welled up in her eyes, tears these two would never allow themselves to shed.

"You gotta do what's best for the baby," the captain's voice was guttural with restrained emotion. "For both a you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' that a nice home on Aten with Wash's family would be a fine thing for Wash's son," Mal stated softly.

She doesn't want to leave! She wants to stay here, and raise _her_ son with _her_ family! Tell her it's all right to stay! She needs to hear you _say_ it. River wanted to reach out and shake him.

Zoë was silent for a minute, digesting his words.

"Never really lived settled in one place before. My folks were spacers," she said neutrally.

"Yeah, but you were what – eight ? – when you first went up. That's a big difference from tryin' to raise an infant out in the black. And your dad was a geologist, Zoë. Not a smuggler, a hired gun, nor a thief."

"My father was a drunk, sir. Let's get that straight. Drunk, died in a stupid fall down a crater that he had no business bein' near. My mother ran off when I was sixteen, and I was on my own until I joined up. Serenity is the longest I've ever lived any one place my whole life."

Mal accepted then that Zoë wanted to stay on Serenity with the baby. He moved closer to Zoë's bed, still unconsciously rocking the child, his jaw clenched.

"So how we gonna do this, huh? We gonna carry the baby like a papoose on our backs as we hold up a bank? Have Jayne strap 'im to his chest along with his bandoliers? Leave the little one to starve to death on the ship if we all get shot up somewhere?" He fired the questions at Zoë so fiercely that behind him River cringed and covered her ears, hoping to block each harsh word.

Zoë was made of sterner stuff.

"Most our jobs of late have been lawful." She kept her tone purposely mild, to deflate Mal's growing anger.

"Most. But not the lucrative ones. Not the big money ones. Not the ones that really keep this boat in the air," Mal said tightly.

"It's been workin' out all right with River and Jayne goin' on jobs. Just 'cause the baby's born now don't mean it'll stop workin'," Zoë said reasonably, but Mal didn't want to hear reasonable.

"You know that stayin' on the ship ain't no guarantee of safety. Violence leaks in everywhere, in everything we do. You ain't afraid you're gonna leave him an orphan the day _you_ get shot up somewhere? You ain't afraid of that? Well, _I am_." The sound of Mal's voice was terrible, and River tried to squeeze her mind shut to keep it out.

"I ain't afraid," Zoë answered unequivocally, her dark eyes locked on Mal. "And as long as there's one member of Serenity's crew left alive, he ain't no orphan, sir."

Listen to her, River pleaded with him silently. Listen to what she's _telling _you.

Mal stared back at her, his blue eyes stunned. His arms tightened around the baby, and Little Hoban fussed a little in reaction. Mal looked down at the infant, swallowing hard against the thick lump that had risen in his throat. You are gonna be the verse's biggest pain in the ass, Hoban Washburne, Jr., and I thought Jayne took that prize, he said in his mind.

Very slowly, he leaned forward and placed the baby in Zoë's arms. Zoë cuddled her son against her breast, watching the captain tensely, knowing him well enough to see that he'd come to a decision. The anxiety she felt was because she didn't know which way he was going to go. Mal stood back and put his hands on his hips, looking down at them with an unreadable expression.

"We don't refuse any job just 'cause of the baby," he blustered abruptly.

"Understood, sir," Zoë's sudden, intense, inner happiness was like a ray of sunshine.

"And I _ain't_ changin' diapers," Mal stated definitively, and turned and marched out of the room.

The tears that had been hovering just under her eyelids coursed down River's cheeks as she felt a wave of relief. She watched silently as Zoë leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"Welcome to the rough and tumble, my love," she whispered with a smile.

&&&&&&

**A/N:** Whew! Feel like _**I** _just had a baby! Thanks for reading, and reviewing! Gem


	11. Melted

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other pairings. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 11: Melted

"Explain to me again why I thought havin' ten pounds of screamin', crappin' baby on my boat was a good idea?" Mal inquired loudly, over the shrill wails of the extremely unhappy infant held in his tired mother's arms. The dining room reverberated with the baby's cries.

The first three weeks after the baby's birth, things had run smoothly. Little Hoban Jr. had been christened Hob, by Jayne of all people, and for some reason that was the nickname that stuck. Mal had been cautiously optimistic that this whole baby-on-board adventure was going to work out all right. The next two weeks convinced him that his initial take was the correct one, since the baby developed an unprecedented case of colic that caused unremitting screaming for six to eight hours of every night, beginning, without fail, just as supper was served. Simon was abashed that modern medicine provided no quick resolution to the problem. The only thing that seemed to ease the baby at all was constant walking. Inara was off the ship on business of her own, leaving Zoë, nursing and still recovering herself, and Kaylee to bear the brunt of taking care of Hob. Mal absolutely refused to do so for more than a few minutes at a time, up until now no one even bothered asking Jayne, and River and Simon were considered emergency baby caregivers only, seeing as how no one wanted a distracted or half-asleep pilot or surgeon if an emergency should arise.

Everyone disregarded the captain's question, since not only was it rhetorical, but it was the same thing he'd been asking every day for a week and a half.

Kaylee, whose turn it was that night, was staring at Jayne like a starving man stares at a thick, juicy steak, trying to think of a way to get him to stand in for her. Simon had offered to take Kaylee's place, but it soon became apparent that Simon was an important component in Kaylee's desire for a night off.

"Dishes," she offered calculatingly, figuring to start the haggling off low.

"Nope." Jayne was eating, the only one whose appetite didn't seem affected by the constant screeching.

River watched him, too, not quite as openly, but just as longingly. Her feelings for him had only intensified since Hob was born, but that strange, near-kiss on the bridge had apparently unnerved him, and he had been very careful to never be alone with her again. It didn't matter. They didn't need to be alone for him to send her emotions into overdrive. All he had to do was laugh, or quietly play his guitar, or dribble the hoopball around the bay, or throw scrap metal down into the hold, or even stroke his goatee in the habitual gesture that indicated either "What's in it for me?" or "I don't really give a fuck" that had become somehow both funny and erotic to her. When he sat at the table and cleaned his guns and knives River would feel a strange, trembly weakness sweep through her as she watched him polish the gleaming metals. She wanted him to concentrate on her like that…she wanted him to touch her with those competent, knowing hands.

"Garbage."

"Uh-uh."

"Dishes _and_ garbage."

Jayne threw Kaylee a disdainful "give me a break" look.

"Dishes, garbage, and cooking."

"Naw."

River poked at her food with her chopsticks, sighing. She should probably volunteer to walk the baby since she wasn't getting any sleep, anyway. Not only did she lay awake thinking about Jayne, but the baby's constant crying was very wearing on her. His little mind was too undeveloped for coherent thought and she felt his infantile pain and confusion in a very visceral way. Simon had noticed her loss of appetite and the dark circles under her eyes, and Mal had caught a plotting error when he was reviewing her course outlines. This was enough to alarm both men, and Simon had even talked of giving her a sedative to make sure she got a good night's sleep. The thought of a full night's rest was very appealing…a deep sleep with no dreams of babies or muscular mercenaries.

Kaylee looked desperate as she pondered the enticements that she would be able to offer Jayne in return for his babywalking services. Suddenly her eyes gleamed with an unholy light and she dimpled sweetly at him.

"I'll give ya back your porn mags."

Simon spit his tea half way across the table.

Jayne's expression conveyed his outrage.

"That was _you_? I thought the post wasn't forwardin' 'em!"

"Don't ya think you've got enough naked women on your bunk walls? Anyway, you can have 'em back if ya take my turn with Hob tonight." Kaylee looked pleased with herself.

"Why the hell should I hafta put up with _that _–" Jayne stabbed his fork in the direction of the screaming baby – "to get back what's mine? Mal?" he appealed to the captain as arbitrator.

Mal, quite entertained, was shaking his head. "Don't drag me into this, Jayne."

River felt Zoë give an inward sigh and resign herself to another sleepless night.

"I'll do it," River offered suddenly. It was strange…she wanted to help Zoë, but she also really didn't want Jayne to have access to fresh pornography. "I'll stay up with the baby."

"I – uh, don't think that's a good idea, _mei mei_," said Simon, still wiping his mouth and mopping up the table. "You're already exhausted and we're going to be landing in a busy port tomorrow. I thought we talked about a sedative tonight."

They were approaching Persephone, where they would re-supply and have a meeting with Badger regarding a job.

"I'm fine, Simon." River replied irritably. "I don't need anything."

"No, you're not." He poured himself another cup of tea.

"Really –" River began to insist.

"He's right, little witch. You look like hell and seemed kinda shaky on the controls this morning. Get some sleep tonight. We'll handle the baby somehow." Mal reassured her.

"Well, I ain't doin' it." Jayne said mutinously. "You keep those mags, you little _ke wu kun chong_. I'll just buy myself s'more porn at Eavesdown tomorrow." He looked at Kaylee with a triumphant sneer.

"Oh, well, if ya feel that way," Kaylee sighed widely. "But you should just _see_ all the tasty in that winter issue. Oh, Simon! Not _again_!"

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

River peeped down through the catwalk and watched as the big mercenary paced back and forth with the squalling infant stretched out against his upturned forearms, the tiny head cradled in his palms. He was making a slight jiggly motion, causing his well-developed biceps to bunch and release in a very pleasing manner.

He'd finally given in and said he'd stay up with the baby so Zoë could get some sleep. Kaylee had brought him the magazines as a peace offering and he'd tossed them down into his bunk without even looking at them, still royally pissed at her.

River had acquiesced to Simon and the captain, and submitted to the hypo of sedative. It wasn't an especially powerful one, and she'd been conditioned at the Academy to metabolize drugs slowly, so she thought she'd have a little time to check on Jayne in the cargo bay before she went to her bunk for the night.

She slipped down to her haunches and wrapped her arms around her knees, staying in the shadows and trying to remain obscured. She was curious and amused, wondering how Jayne would deal with the baby. He'd been in charge for almost four hours, now.

"There ya are, little man, you jus' settle down now…" she heard Jayne murmuring with a surprising degree of patience. The baby wasn't having any, though, screaming in infant rage, writhing a bit and kicking out his tiny feet, causing one of his little knitted booties to slip off and flutter to the ground.

"Hup, whatcha getting' undressed for, little 'un?" Jayne asked mildly, "You want your feet to get cold?" He then startled River by adding, "You been getting bad ideas from crazy girl?" She tensed, thinking that he had surely seen her. Her cheeks flushing, she waited for him to look up and say something mean and dismissive.

"Now she's pretty an' all, but don't let her give you no advice on footwear, _dong ma_? Big, bad men like us needs their boots." He eased the baby to one arm and leaned down cautiously to retrieve the bootie, exhibiting no evidence that he was aware of the crouching girl's presence above him. A warm glow suffused River's body and she hugged her knees tightly in giddy delight. Had Jayne Cobb actually just admitted he thought she was attractive?

"That's right, little guy, we're gonna make our own crew, jus' you and me, to hell with your momma and Mal. Cobb and Hob, the biggest, meanest _hun dans_ ever to fly the black. We'll be famous from Core to Rim. Seventy-five percent of all takin's for me, twenty-five for you, and we'll be shiny." Jayne sat down on one of the mag crates, rested the baby in his lap, and slid the sock back on the tiny foot. Hob continued to wail, his little face screwed up and red. Jayne moved his hand almost tenderly over the satiny soft skin of the baby's leg.

"Why, no wonder you're cryin', you're cold all over!" Jayne exclaimed. "I got just the thing." He fumbled in his pocket, and River saw a flash of yellowy orange.

"There!" Jayne said in satisfaction as he worked the bunchy material around the baby. He stood up and lifted the little body to his shoulder, carefully bracing the still wobbly little neck, and another piece of River's heart melted away as she saw that he had enclosed the baby, the entire baby, inside the silly hat his mother had knit for him. The familiar ache in her chest and throat was back, and River felt that strange trembly and weak feeling sweep through her.

Her breath caught in a shaky gasp as Jayne began to pat the baby rhythmically on the back, his large, tanned hand almost dwarfing the tiny body. He looked so strong, so protective, as he walked lightly back and forth, cuddling the child. River realized something that had never occurred to her before: despite all surface evidence to the contrary, Jayne would be a good father to his children. He would lavish the same obsessive attention to them that he did to all the things he considered his own. His guns, his knives, his children…his…his… woman. River spread her fingers low on her abdomen, imagining her belly swollen with his child. The thought of carrying Jayne's baby inside her made her womb twitch in yearning. She shook her head with a muted moan. What was _wrong_ with her?

She continued to watch, mesmerized, as Jayne began humming something soft and low into the little one's ear. Hob, who must have taken some comfort from the tighter swaddling and increased warmth, reduced his full-out screaming to squirmy, irritable fussing.

River strained to hear the song that Jayne was singing, and as he turned to walk the infant in the other direction, she was able to make it out. It was a tune that she'd heard him practicing on the guitar the other day. He'd stopped abruptly when he'd caught her watching him, realized there wasn't anyone else in the sitting area, and proceeded to high-tail it out of there. He actually had a very pleasant singing voice, lighter and smoother than his gravelly speaking voice. She wished she could make out the words.

Suddenly the baby reared up against the pressure of chest and hand, and with one last high-pitched complaint, curled up his tiny legs as tightly as he could against his stomach and let loose a long, surprisingly audible fart. Jayne broke off his song abruptly to angle his head at the baby on his shoulder, his expression one of offended dismay.

River suppressed a giggle, wondering what Jayne would do now.

The big mercenary waved a hand around as if to disperse the smell and gave a soft, philosophical _hmph_. "Whoo. So that's what was botherin' you. Well, like my mother always said: better out than in." He slid the baby down a bit and reached an apprehensive hand into the back of the hat to check the contents of the baby's diaper. He squinted down with a fearful grimace and then his face cleared. "All air. Good man! I think our future profitable association woulda hafta been cancelled if you shit all over my favor-ite hat."

River had to press her hands over her mouth to prevent her laughter from escaping.

Jayne patted Hob on the bottom a few times and the infant turned his face to snuggle his nose against the smooth skin under Jayne's ear. Hob made a few snuffling noises, and then River watched almost in envy as the little body relaxed completely against Jayne's shoulder in the instantaneous sleep of the very young. How wonderful it would be to rest her body against that strong, warm flesh…to know that secure comfort. River shivered, feeling the chill of the ship in its down cycle. Jayne continued to move around the room in the blessed silence.

"Thank you, Lord," Jayne sighed in relief a few minutes later, when he was convinced the baby was truly asleep. "Back to your cradle, young 'un."

River reversed soundlessly through the hatch as Jayne carried the baby around the corner and back to his nursery in the passenger quarters. She put her back against the rounded wall and slid into a sitting position. Just to be safe she would wait here until she heard him come back upstairs and go to his bunk. She could hear faint sounds from the nursery as Jayne put the baby down. Who knew he was so domesticated? He'd handled that baby like a pro. River yawned. She was so sleepy all of a sudden. She realized that Simon's sedative was finally starting to kick in.

River turned sideways to the wall and hugged her knees to her chest to stay warmer. Jayne had been so sweet with the baby…so patient and kind…was _this_ the Jayne that hid behind that dark cloak that swirled between her mind and his? Had the sadness and loss of Miranda awakened this kinder, gentler creature? St. Jayne, she thought woozily. A saint with the temper of… a…a…bad-tempered person, and...and an extensive porn collection. She gave an unconscious little giggle and let her head rest against the wall. A few seconds later her mind registered the sound of footsteps, coming closer. It had to be Jayne; he was the only one still awake, she thought sluggishly.

"Oh, what the – I _thought_ I heard – hey, girl, what are you doin' _now_?" Jayne's hushed voice was exasperated.

"Mm. Sleepy." River managed, blinking up at him.

"Well, go to bed."

"Can't…tired. S'mon gave me a seda …" It was too hard to explain.

"You can't sleep on the floor…'sides, you're shivering."

"You…take me to bed, Jayne," she murmured, letting her head flop down to her knees. There was silence, and then she thought she heard a low groan.

"C'mon, then," he mumbled finally, and River felt his hands slide behind her shoulders and beneath her crooked knees. Her body felt limp and dangly for a second, until she felt the solid warmth of his chest against one side as he stood up and held her to him.

"M' I heavy?" she murmured, feeling the strength in his big arms as he carried her through the passage. She giggled a little as she realized that her earlier wish to be held like the baby had come true. River snuggled her cheek against his shoulder.

"No," he replied tensely. "You don't weigh no more'n a feather, and you know it."

She realized that his even steps had changed into bumpy ones as he descended the stairs. Her slack face creased in a sudden frown. This wasn't the way to bed for either of them.

"Go to _your_ bunk…" she tried to open her heavy eyes.

"Will you stop _sayin'_ things like that, crazy?" He sounded like he was in pain. "I ain't takin' you to anyone's bunk."

"Where?" she asked dazedly, trying to leverage her head up by clutching at his shoulder with her hand. Where was he taking her?

"I'm puttin' you in the nursery where you belong, so hush up now," he said gruffly, elbowing the door open quietly and carrying her to the cot Zoë had set up next to Hob's cradle.

River sighed as he slid her onto the bed. The sheets were cool and she missed his warmth. She felt him arrange her heavy limbs and draw the covers up to her chin. Like parents in books, who tucked their children into bed with cocoa, kisses and admonitions against the nightly predations of _Cimex lectularius_.

"Kiss me," she whispered, almost fully asleep.

It was so quiet she thought he must have left, until, incredibly, she felt the brush of his lips against hers. Her last semi-cogent thought was: I really hope I remember that in the morning.

&&&&&&&&

**Chinese: **

_mei mei_ – little sister

_ke wu kun chong – _obnoxious bug

_dong ma_ – understand?

_hun dan_s – bastards/jerks

**A/N:** Hey, **Myth87**! Per our discussion, did you like the further adventures of our favorite siblings, Jayne and Kaylee? (The only good kind of JayLee, lol.) Of course, with porn. Hmm. Porn, spit-takes, baby emissions…where won't I go? Just amusing myself…hope y'all are amused, too. Doped-up River, so cute. And finally, a sweet Rayne kiss! Thanks for reading and for the nice reviews! Gem


	12. Interlogue II

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 12: Interlogue II

– _Fourteen Years Ago –_

Simon was irritated. He'd had a long day, since he'd been up early for cram school, plus he'd had mahjong club after his regular schedule. And then as soon as he'd gotten home, his mother told him that there had been some sort of difficulty and he had to go and collect River early from her first day of recreation class. He was tired, he was hungry, and he _really_ wanted to know why River always became his problem.

It wasn't that he didn't love her, he did. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy her, he _did._ But just once in a while, he wished he were like his friend Will, who didn't have _any _siblings, not to mention a precocious, prone to trouble, prodigy of a sibling.

As the car slid to a halt in one of the preprogrammed parking spaces outside the recreation center, Simon could see that River's classmates were all outside in the fenced-in courtyard, taking advantage of the pleasant late afternoon sunshine. They were all running around screaming and playing with toys and balls and acting like normal four- and five-year-olds, he supposed. He really wouldn't know. His eyes searched for River, trying to remember what she had been wearing that morning, before he recalled he'd left for school before she was out of her pajamas, so that wouldn't be very helpful.

He stepped out of the car, frowning a little. He didn't see his sister's dark head anywhere. Had she been injured - ? Had she run away? Was that the problem? Why hadn't they said anything to Mother? His anxious footsteps accelerated as he scanned the play lot for Miss Deanna, River's teacher. There she was, over by the rock garden …

As he moved swiftly around the brick pillars that flanked the open cast-iron gates, he glanced to the side. There, sitting on a bench all alone, was a small figure, clad in a familiar cherry red corduroy jumper and red, black and white ladybug tights, huddled into itself. River. Relief and impatience filtered through him in equal measures. What was the matter _this _time?

He slowed and turned toward where she was seated, his feet dragging to a halt. She looked so tiny and defenseless. And lonely. The impatience melted away into reluctant pity and the relief flared into a fierce brotherly protectiveness.

"River?" he asked quietly, and her head shot up. There were tear smudges on her rounded cheeks. She wiped them away hastily as she jumped to her feet, her shiny black patent leather boots, purchased with such fanfare for the big first day, clapping against the cobblestones of the walk.

"_Ge_ _ge_!" She called out gratefully, and ran to him swiftly, burying her small face into the brushed cotton of his school jacket. "_Zui hou_!"

"_Mei mei_, what's wrong?" he asked gently, putting his arms around her thin shoulders and patting her back. She shrugged uncooperatively, rubbing her runny nose into the soft material. He scowled a little and pushed her away firmly so that he could see her eyes.

"What happened?" He asked determinedly.

"I was angry," admitted River, her eyes remaining downcast. "And play teacher said I had to behave or leave, so I chose to call Mother."

Keeping one hand latched on her upper arm, Simon tugged her back to the bench and sat her down with a gentle shove.

"So tell me why you got angry?" He perched on the edge of the bench next to her, leaning forward to partially obscure her from anyone that might be watching, creating a private little zone.

"No one would play with me." She pouted.

"That's nonsense, River, this is recreation school. That's why you're here, to learn to play. They _have _to play with you," he pointed out, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, they wouldn't!"

The remembered injustice caused fresh tears to well in River's dark brown eyes.

"Explain," he sighed.

"The assignment for today was to explore our fears of the unknown through play activity. We were supposed to construct a frightening scenario and confront one another in a threatening m-m-manner," she sniffed repeatedly, trying to control her crying, and failing.

"_That_'s what Miss Deanna told you to do?" Simon questioned in disbelief.

"I'm paraphrasing," River gave a hiccupping sob.

"I see…" Simon said faintly. Of course she was.

"Play teacher told us all to 'think of a really scary game,' and then we would take turns playing them, but no one wanted to play mine." River's lower lip wobbled, and she looked over Simon's shoulder at the group of laughing and yelling children with wet, wounded eyes.

"And what game did you want to play?" Simon asked, bewildered.

"Teratogenic birth defect," River looked up at him as if that should have been obvious.

"Uh…"

"That's significantly more frightening than Siân's 'red-eyed monster,' " River scoffed, rubbing her knuckles under her eyes, "and they all played _that_."

"River…" Simon began tiredly. How to begin? "I'm sure they didn't want to play because they didn't understand the game."

River blinked. "How could they not understand?"

"Not everyone thinks the way you do, _mei mei_. Not everyone plays the way you do."

River considered this.

"They don't understand me?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Do you…" she started hesitantly. "Do _you_ understand me?"

He smiled, and reaching out, roughed up the top of her silky dark head.

"Yes, mostly."

"Simon!" she protested, and grabbed at his hand.

"Come on, River. Let's go tell Miss Deanna that I'm going to take you home." He stood up, pulling her off the bench, and twirled her around by their linked fingers. River gave a watery giggle, and fell into step beside him, swinging their joined fists.

"Am I going to have to come back tomorrow?" she asked with palpable dread as they approached the teacher, who had noticed Simon and was waiting for them.

"Probably," Simon responded frankly. River gave a very tragic sigh.

"Simon, am I ever going to have a friend that understands me?" She watched the other children playing with a wistful look on her face.

Simon smiled down at her. "Yes, River."

"As well as you do?"

Regardless of the teacher, Simon stopped and crouched down in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders to give her a heartening little shake.

"Even better, _mei mei_."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

&&&&&&&

**Chinese: **

_ge ge – _big brother

_zui hou – _finally/at last

_mei mei _– little sister

**A/N: **I could just _see_ this scene in my head so well, especially little River in her red corduroy jumper and ladybug tights…if I ever happened upon a picture of Summer as a child dressed like this, I'd go completely mental and run off to apply for that remote viewing program the CIA has going. Thanks for reading, and reviewing! Gem


	13. Of Rats and Whores

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 13: Of Rats and Whores

– _Present Day_ –

"If you take this job, you're a fool, Malcolm Reynolds!" Inara proclaimed icily.

River sighed inwardly and put her chin in her hand. Inara had only been back on Serenity for a little over an hour and she and Mal were already bickering. Sometimes River wondered grumpily why they couldn't just have sex and be done with it. Their spiky, on-again, off-again romance was very tiring. It was obvious to everyone that they were madly in love – even _they_ knew it. So what was the real problem? They didn't have to guess and wonder and chew their fingernails in frustration not knowing what the other one was thinking, what the other one wanted. That reminded River of her own woes, and her eyes were drawn to _her_ particular source of pain and aggravation. She looked moodily at Jayne, who was flopped across from her on the couch in the sitting area by the infirmary, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched the altercation, appreciating the fact that Mal was on the receiving end of Inara's derisive tongue today, and not him.

He kissed me, he _did_, River tried to convince herself. When she'd awakened in the nursery yesterday morning the first thing she'd done was put astonished fingertips to her smiling lips, wondering if that gentle touch had been real, or if she had dreamt it. The first time she had seen him afterwards, yesterday at breakfast, he had ignored her as he normally did, although she had a sneaking suspicion that he was ignoring her a little _harder_ than usual. When breakfast was over she'd tracked him through the ship, trying to corner him alone to say thank you for carrying her to the nursery (at least he couldn't deny _that_), but he'd remained elusive until it was time to dock at Persephone, and then there had been no time for conversation. He'd accompanied Mal to the big meeting with Badger, the two men had had dinner at a restaurant, and then Jayne had gone off somewhere by himself. River had cried herself to sleep trying to keep from imagining exactly where.

"You are turning my head with all your sugar talk, darlin'. And the job's already been taken," Mal drawled from his stance by the steps leading to the cargo bay. He'd been in a bad mood since Inara's shuttle had docked, the action having brought forth the uneasy recollection that she'd left the ship, her first absence since Miranda, for reasons she had not seen fit to share with him. River knew he was reluctant to ask Inara if she were seeing clients again. He also hated when Inara treated him like some green rube, too unsophisticated to comprehend the larger world and societal realities that she negotiated so effortlessly. He had his arms folded obstinately, and he and the rest of the crew watched in confusion as the Companion began drifting around the room, peering sarcastically under cushions and behind furniture. When she slipped behind the black leather chair to try and yank up that odd bronze wall sculpture, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"What in the name a hell are you doin'?" he inquired, obviously concluding she'd lost her mind. He looked at Zoë for confirmation of that, and she lifted her shoulders slightly in mystification, trying not to laugh.

"Looking for _Saffron_, of course," Inara informed him sweetly. "She always seems to be hiding in some little nook or cranny when you make decisions using such colossally poor judgment." Inara stopped, her point made. "Mal, you _cannot _become involved with that man."

Up until the time Inara wandered in, the crew meeting to discuss the work from Badger had been handled with rare efficiency. Mal had been giving Zoë, River and Jayne a general run-down of the job: nothing too radical, extremely well-paid, just a rich man looking to keep a little more of his riches from the Union of Allied Planets Tax Authority by transporting goods in a clandestine manner, when Inara, passing through from her peek at the napping Hob, caught the mention of a name and reacted to it with distinct disfavor.

"I believe her latest and greatest is Yolanda, and just what is your problem with Shu Ungwele, anyway? Badger says he runs some kinda hotel."

"Hotel Orrica is not _some kind of _hotel. It's the center of an empire such as you've never seen, Mal. Radovic Ungwele controls almost the entire planet of Sergey, do you understand? There are rumors that he runs the 'verse's largest illegal arms cartel – his legitimate business is mining and chemicals and he's pillaged and destroyed the natural resources of countless moons… the people of Sergey live in famine and misery in war zones fought over by marauding militias, while he and his cronies live in decadent luxury at the Orrica." Inara gave a choking laugh of disbelief when Mal didn't seem fazed by any of that.

"He is a _monster_," she clarified.

"A monster that's gonna pay us quite a bit to take a few boxes from one place t'other and put a finger in the eye of the Alliance T-men at the same time. I don't have a problem with that." Mal shrugged. "This is an in-and-out proposition, 'Nara. Shouldn't take more'n three days start to finish."

"You don't want to appear on his radar, Mal," Inara warned with a frustrated sigh.

"We ain't gonna be anywhere near his radar. If this Shu or Radovic or whatever is as powerful as you say, he's got little mice like us scurryin' all around the 'verse. Ain't no cause to think we'd be any more noticeable. We just do our part, and get our cut, and fly away clean." He paused. "'Sides, Tasha Kane's crew and the Waarf brothers and Monty are all goin', too." Mal's tone reminded River of a little boy being told he had to stay inside after supper when all his friends were going to the park.

"Oh, well, if Monty's going…." Inara repeated in exasperation. "If Monty jumped off a cliff, would you jump, too?" She raised a mocking eyebrow.

"All depends on what's at the bottom. In this case, it's a big pile a cashy money," Mal replied coolly.

Jayne snickered at that and River stared at him with sad and angry eyes. Logically, she knew that a few nice gestures, one tiny peck and a goodnight kiss did not constitute a relationship. Logically, she knew that he had every right to do whatever he pleased with whomever he pleased without reference to her or her feelings. But it was still incredibly hurtful. She had thought that something had been awakened between them. Something worth exploring, something _real_. His willingness to kiss her goodnight had been proof that he felt it, too, or so she had thought. Now she felt betrayed, and worse, like a fool, a gawpish teenaged girl with an overactive imagination and too much time on her hands. It's all your fault, Jayne Cobb, she thought in anguish. How can you just sit there laughing, you oversized, whore-mongering imbecile?

Jayne caught her glare and his smile died away. He stared back at her with a puzzled frown, indicating, 'What?' He shifted a little uncomfortably, and she could see the exact moment when he got annoyed with himself, remembering that he was supposed to be ignoring her. He looked down as if he suddenly found the godawful orange carpet utterly fascinating.

"Fine," Inara shook her head despairingly. "I did my best. But you should ask yourself, Mal, why a man that wealthy suddenly needs to hire a fleet of dubious little…subcontractors to move those paltry boxes. Keep in mind that his nickname isn't Shu for nothing." She marched up the steps and out into the cargo bay.

Mal stared after her retreating form. "Was she invited to this meeting?" He asked no one in particular. "Who invited her?"

He turned and looked at his crew, staring back at him with vacant expressions.

"Little witch?" he asked with careful indifference. "You got any particular feelin's about this job?"

"No, Cap'n," River shook her head. "But Inara is very upset." She couldn't stop looking at Jayne.

"Yeah, I got that," Mal pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jayne, you traitor. _Your_ nickname should be Shu. For the first time in long time, River thought about Ariel. He had tried to sell her for money! Money to spend on whores!

"Zoë, will you do some research on the cortex and find out a little bit more about our overly generous friend Shu?"

"Right after I feed the baby, sir." She stood up, and headed for the nursery.

Mal paused, shaking his head a little as if to clear it. "Still gettin' used to that. And River, as you as soon you get any inklings, you tell me, _dong le ma_?" Mal ordered her.

"_Haio ba_, Cap'n." River's misery was like a stone in the shoe of her soul.

"We done here, Mal?" Jayne asked, this time meeting her hot gaze with a bold, unrepentant one of his own, and at Mal's weary nod, he cleared off.

&&&&&&&&

**Chinese:**

_Shu _– Rat

_dong le ma_ – understood?

_haio ba_ - okay

&&&&&&&&

"Inara?" River poked her head around the heavy silken draperies at the entrance of Inara's shuttle.

"Come in, _mei mei_," Inara called, sitting inside at her console. She blinked off the screen and turned to give River a warm smile of welcome.

River came into the room slowly, running her hand down the swathes of rich cloth, always loving the rich fabrics and sweet scents and warm and inviting atmosphere she found there. Inara really did make this seem like a little home…River always thought of genies living inside their ornate bottles. Or trapped inside, she thought.

"How have things been here since I've been gone?" Inara asked, going over to the bed and patting the space next to her, inviting River to sit.

"Hob has colic." River sat down and folded one leg underneath her skirt. She looked down at the bottom of her foot and noticed it was a little dirty, so she put it down again quickly.

"_That_ I've heard about already." The Companion's musical voice was amused. "Tell me something I don't know."

_Jayne kissed me._ The words hovered seductively on River's lips. She fought down the urge to confess to Inara, the one most likely to empathize, with valiant resolve. _On the mouth_. Stop it! She admonished herself sternly. That's not why you're here.

"Inara," River began tentatively, "Why don't you tell him?"

Inara stiffened. "Tell him what?" She knew she didn't need to say to whom. "There are so many things to tell him."

"About the Guild." River looked at Inara's rigidly held profile.

Inara glanced at River from the corner of her eyes and tried to smile. "It is very uncomfortable, realizing that I have no secrets from you, River." She was silent for a moment, and then she gave a tired sigh. "They refused my request for a continuance. My sabbatical will come to an end in three months, and after that, I'll have to return to the Mother House as an instructor, or begin contracting clients again."

"And if you don't?"

Inara's mouth lifted with a sour little moue. "Foremost, I won't be able to afford the fees for my Companion's license. If I go over a year without renewing my license, the Guild will revoke my status, my House will no longer recognize me, and the other Companions will abide by that ruling. The Guild will be closed to me permanently. If I – if I decided to accept clients any time after that, I'd be nothing more than a – a –"

"Whore," River said the word Inara did not want to speak. "Like Nandi."

"Yes," Inara concurred softly, the thought of Nandi reviving an old pain. "Like Nandi."

"He thinks that you left Serenity to see clients, but didn't want to tell him."

"Does he?" Inara gave an odd smile. "I can't imagine why. I would certainly have been forthright with him if he had broached the question. It's nothing I would have been _ashamed _of."

"But you don't want to. See clients, I mean," River said quietly.

"No, I don't." Inara looked at her with amused uneasiness. "Not at this time."

River fiddled with the pleats on her skirt, unwillingly experiencing Inara's emotional retread of the Nandi incident at the Heart of Gold. She often wondered exactly what they had done to her at the Academy that allowed her to read other people like this. They had stripped the barriers of her amygdala, but that only prevented her from being unable to suppress her own emotions. Simon had also discovered that they had also supremely magnified her ability to produce almost constant, extremely powerful theta wave rhythms, known to be involved in processing sensory stimuli and accessing short term and episodic memory. Perhaps that was why she was she could feel every sensation that Inara had experienced then and was reliving now.

Inara's pain over Mal's behavior so closely matched her own current feelings about Jayne that she had to know more.

"Is it because of Nandi?" she asked in a small voice.

Inara gave an unsteady sigh. "I suppose there's absolutely no sense in denying it, is there? Yes…"

"Because it changed the way you felt about being a Companion?"

"It was more complicated than that, River, but again, yes. I had always been able to keep physical pleasure and comfort separate from emotion…by training, by experience, even by personal inclination. I truly believed in the benefits of Companionship, giving one's body to another as a vessel for enjoyment, and healing, with no deeper sentiment to twist or damage the purity of that process. When I found out that Mal, and Nandi…" Inara paused, smoothing down the silky material of her dress. "Even though I said all the right things, pretended to be glad that they'd shared each other's bodies…in that first moment of realization, I hated her. I hated them both. And it shocked me. It gave the lie to so much of what I'd told myself about being a Companion. For the very first time, I wondered if someone else had ever stood like that as I walked away from their man or woman, hating me, hating us both." She fell silent.

"So do you think being a Companion is …wrong?"

Inara looked startled. "Oh…no. I don't at all. Companionship is an important and civilizing element of our society. It's not all about the physical. Quite frequently, my duties involved no sexual intimacies at all. And I do think it is possible to take and give bodily comfort without emotional involvement, and there will always be a need for such outlets. It was _my_ own commitment to this ideal that had altered."

"How could Mal do that with her, when he feels the way he does about you?" River frowned. This was the essence of what she wanted to know.

A funny look of pain mixed with amusement crossed Inara's face.

"Very easily, _mei mei_. Nandi was a beautiful, generous woman, and she wanted him. He's – he's highly attractive to women, you know."

River looked extremely skeptical. Inara laughed at that and took River's hand.

"Trust me. Also, he wasn't sure at that time that I returned his feelings. I had done a very good job of pushing him away," Inara said ruefully.

"You still do," River said honestly, but her mind was on Jayne. Should she just come out and tell him how she felt? What if laughed at her? _What if he didn't_? Fear and excitement bubbled through her.

Inara sighed once again. "It's because I'm afraid. To commit to Mal would mean giving up a large part of Inara Serra. Am I ready for that? Is staying with Mal and Serenity going to be worth that sacrifice? I wish there was a way..." She looked around the shuttle, as if it could give her some answers, blinking back sudden tears.

River could feel her pain and confusion. She had more sympathy for Inara and Mal, now. Relationships _were _scary.

Inara turned back to her with a calm smile, and River could feel her Companion training rising to the surface.

"How silly we are to have strayed upon such a depressing subject, my dear!" she said with determined gaiety. "Will you have some tea? I brought back some sweetmeats and a tin of those chocolate biscuits everyone enjoys so much." She moved gracefully over to a small lacquered cabinet where a tea service was already laid out. She added an extra cup and poured hot water from a steaming kettle into the pot.

"No, thank you, Inara," River refused politely.

"I insist." Inara was unwavering in her desire to lighten the atmosphere. "Please come and sit with me and enjoy some refreshments. I suppose we should enjoy all we can, before we reach Sergey and the crew embarks on this newest idiocy. Why anyone would willingly work for Shu Ungwele, I cannot understand." Inara added a small dish of treats and carried the tray over to the low table before the sofa.

"I know why." River slid off the bed and followed her.

"I imagine because it's extremely well paid." Inara said tartly, pouring the tea. "That in and of itself should be a red flag." She used a small pair of tongs to lift a few cookies to a plate and offered them to River.

"I have calculated that the payout for this job will keep Serenity stocked and fueled for a least six months, Inara. In the meantime we can accept those moon runs, delivering milk and eggs and cough syrup, all those legitimate jobs that are safe but barely pay our expenses. Jobs that carry little risk and little reward, but jobs that have very little chance of endangering Hob." River murmured her thanks as she accepted the plate.

"I see," Inara said slowly. "I understand, now." Her eyes softened.

River felt something flare up in Inara. Something warm …her love for Mal, her pride in him…and also her guilt at how she'd harangued him in front of the crew.

Reluctantly, River remembered Jayne, wrapping her injured hand in his t-shirt, carving the little animals, Jayne and the baby…putting her to bed so carefully, the dove-like brush of his lips against hers…that look of confusion on his face when she had stared at him so hatefully.

She sighed. Men. Just when you thought you couldn't possibly detest them any further, you were reminded of how wonderful they could be. _Rats._

&&&&&&&&&

A/N: Hoped you liked – setting up for "ominous," **Gunner**! LOL Thanks for reading and for the nice reviews! Gem


	14. Signs and Portents

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 14: Signs and Portents

"Well, now we know exactly how we rate in this business," Zoë commented dryly as the ramp thumped into the ground, throwing up a cloud of dust. Waves of heat came at them and they had to squint against the brilliant sun. Hob was sleeping on her shoulder and she stepped back to keep him out of the harsh glare.

"They certainly stuck us at the ass-end of the world," Jayne groused with a discontented huff, striding down a few steps to look around, hooking his thumbs in his belt. He cocked his head in the direction of some low-built warehouses not too far over to the left. "Think that's our loadin' area?"

"We are parked in the Jar Jar lot, there's no denyin'," Mal peered out over the vast, gleaming rows and rows of spaceships, shuttles and pleasure cruisers that led to the glistening white buildings and colorful flags of the hotel proper, wavering in the heat, like a magical kingdom far in the distance. He craned his head to the side to see the outer wall of the complex across a small rocky field directly behind them, security towers hovering around the perimeter, shining in the blaring light. The complex was spread out on a huge natural plateau, accessible only by air due to the long and sheer drop to the surrounding desert.

"This is so excitin'," Kaylee enthused, bopping down the ramp to stand between Jayne and Mal. "I never been in a place this fancy before, 'cept maybe Bellerophon, and all I got to see there was the garbage bin. We are gonna get to go over there, right, Cap? To the restaurants, and the casinos, and the shows…? Simon says he wants to take me to a fancy dinner somewhere." She gasped suddenly. "Maybe they got a pool! I ain't been swimmin' since I left home!"

"They have many," River moved out from the shadows and blinked in the sun. "But our landing orders indicate that we should stay with our ship until called upon."

Jayne was standing directly in front of her, and she thought she saw him tense up when he heard her speak.

"Oh…" Kaylee gave a crestfallen whine, her shoulders slumping.

Over these last two days River and Jayne had moved around each other warily, like animals claiming territory, circling the same trees and rocks, scenting each other but not risking a confrontation. He seemed angry at _her _for some reason, which she found to be unfathomable. Wasn't he the one that had disappeared into the night, almost certainly to cavort with prostitutes? She wasn't even really upset about that, anymore. River's conversation with Inara had helped her recognize the fact that until Jayne knew of her regard for him, she couldn't blame him for acting, well, like Jayne. River kept waiting for some sort of sign, an indication that her feelings might be reciprocated in some way. That blank wall between them filled her with a profound bitterness. Why was it her cruel fate to experience every moment that Kaylee spent maundering on internally about Simon's wonderfulness, and yet not be able to read the one person whose thoughts she was dying to know? She despaired, analyzing and reanalyzing each outcome of revealing her feelings, with too many unknown factors and too few optimal results. Why couldn't romance be more systematic?

"Here comes Monty," Mal shadowed his eyes with his hands as he saw the bulky square of Monty's ship approach from the check point and begin its descent into a space across the thin, dry grass and rubble of the access road.

"Old home week, sir," Zoë said, noting some movement at one of the berths not far down the row. "There's Tasha's ship, and the Waarfs are already here, too. And I ain't sure, but I think that might be Alexander Kehlar next to that."

"Get a wave out to 'em – I think we need to have a meeting…see if any of 'em know what we know, find out what they know…" the captain said over his shoulder to Zoë.

An intensely hot wind came gusting across the plateau, but River shivered. Her senses were beginning to jangle with undercurrents too diffuse to identify yet, so subtle that she wasn't sure if she was just imagining it, spurred on by her own emotional instability. She felt the pressure of too many minds…a façade of exhilaration and pleasure, fountains gurgling up into the sky, the persistent drumbeat of rage, fear and deceit pulsing underneath. Shifting sands…the hot white sun burning…gleaming white minarets stained with blood…a black bird beating its wings at a latticed window… vultures wheeling…

She made a tiny, uncontrollable noise, almost a soundless whimper, but Jayne heard and glanced over his shoulder to look at her. Their eyes met and he frowned, apprehension and concern causing him to begin moving toward her, as if he felt her internal distress. Like on Miranda, when he was the first to understand.

"It's a mirage," she exclaimed suddenly, her voice shrill and distant. "And death comes when the simoom blows."

She shook her head a little to clear it, the back of her neck feeling clammy. A wave of dizziness passed through her and dimly, she noticed that Jayne had stopped when both Kaylee and Mal had turned to look at her, identical chilled expressions on their faces.

"Am I the only one who felt a hint of the prophetic in those words?" Mal asked, very calmly. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

"Definitely not, sir," Zoe replied from behind her.

River looked helplessly at Jayne. She felt sick and cold and the goose bumps that raised the flesh of her arms were so keen that they _hurt. _All she could think about was how warm and strong he was and how much she wished she could call on that strength right now.

_I need you_. For one surreal moment River thought she might have spoken the words aloud.

Jayne's fists were clenched and it appeared as if he were holding himself very tautly, holding himself back, and it made River wonder: if they had been alone, would he have come to her?

"I take it you had an inkling, little witch?" Mal moved into her line of sight.

"Yes…" she whispered, trying to focus on the captain. The rush of impressions had already become hazy. "But it wasn't very clear."

"Look at her eyes, all black like that – and she's shiverin'! Let's get you inside, sweetie, and have Simon take a look at you." Kaylee put her arm around River's shoulders and guided her gently back into the cooler dimness of the cargo bay. River fought briefly against Kaylee's arm, trying to turn and look back at Jayne. He hadn't moved, and his face was in shadow because of the blinding sun behind him. If she could only see his eyes…

Mal moved up the ramp, pausing when he came level with Zoë and the baby.

"I'm not sure what the gorram hell she said, but it wasn't good," he spoke quietly, watching as Kaylee and River made their way to the infirmary. "Call that meeting."

&&&&&&&&

River lay on the little sofa in the sitting area off the dining room, the crash circle, as Mal often referred to it, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the others talking, killing time waiting for the other crews to show up for the meeting. They thought she was dozing and they were debating what she had said out on the ramp. Without turning her head she could see Jayne's profile, Zoë, who was standing and rocking a fussy Hob, Simon, and Mal. Kaylee and Inara were off to the side closest to the bridge.

"She says she doesn't remember, which is not uncommon when this sort of thing happens to her," explained Simon.

"This_ sorta thing_…" Jayne repeated the euphemism with a derisive snort. "You mean: creepifyin' psychic episodes."

"She can't help it!" Simon snapped, coming instantly to River's defense.

"I know it…don't make it any less creepifyin'." Jayne responded without heat. She could see him shrug. She looked at him unhappily. Is that what it is? Do I repulse and unnerve you?

"She said somethin' about death comin' to you, Simon!" Kaylee brought up urgently, obviously upset. "I heard it clear as day."

"She said I was going to die?" Simon remained unruffled.

"I thought she said death comes when the moon blows." Zoë put in. "Whatever that means."

"What about you, Jayne? You were standin' closest." The captain asked.

"I thought she said something about the 'simoom' blowin' – but I don't know what the fuck that is."

River jolted when she heard the words in his grumbly low voice. That was right…simoom. Simoom, samiel, khamaseen…ancient words for an ancient scourge. The red wind, the Sea of Blood…She shivered.

"Simoom? Are you sure?" Simon questioned Jayne sharply.

"Uh, _no_. It's your little sis specializes in crazy talk, 'member?" Jayne scratched his cheek.

"Well, actually, that _would_ make sense if she said something about blowing. A simoom is a wind storm that often occurs on planets and moons where geologic formation has inhibited proper terraforming. The result is large deserts, like this one on Sergey, in which cyclonic winds may form and pick up the dust and sand…the temperature rises sharply and the humidity plummets. The result to living creatures enveloped in this storm can be fatal. The possibilities are suffocation, of course, or heat stroke due to the extremely elevated temperature and the inability to reduce body heat fast enough through perspiration and evaporation." Simon cleared his throat, done lecturing.

"_What_?" Jayne complained, shaking his head a little.

Simon gave him a look of stony-eyed patience. "It's a very hot sand storm. Your brain fries because you can't sweat fast enough, or you choke to death. On sand."

"Okay, then," Jayne sat back thoughtfully.

"So in other words, not a party," Mal remarked with a mocking smile.

"No."

"So what's that mean, 'the simoom blows'?" Kaylee asked edgily, still unnerved by the thought of something happening to Simon.

"It might be symbolic…it might be literal. Although the higher elevation of this plateau would deem it unlikely that we would experience such a storm, we _are_ in the desert." Simon pointed out. "For one, I would highly recommend the crew carry goggles and small, filtered, oxygen units with them at all times when they are off ship."

"Does Serenity _have_ small, filtered, oxygen units?" asked Inara skeptically, pretty certain of the answer.

"Ah, not that I know of." Simon admitted with awkward regret.

Mal lifted his hand and let it fall in disgust.

"We got suits." Kaylee suggested. "Enough for all of us."

There was a distant banging.

"They're here…" Zoë looked toward the stairs, shifting the baby to her other shoulder. "We gonna meet here, or in the bay?"

"I'll go let down the ramp…I always wanted to meet Monty!" Kaylee said excitedly, and jumped up.

"Gotta be down there. We can sit on crates." Mal decided. "Jayne, you bust out the booze like I asked you?"

River saw him nod, but he didn't get up.

"You comin', Doc? 'Nara?" Mal looked at her with a wicked challenge in his wide-set eyes. River could feel his boyish eagerness matched with an equally powerful ambivalence. He wanted her to meet his friends, but at the same time, he was a little embarrassed not only by what she would think of them, but what they would think of a fancy piece like her.

"To meet and imbibe 'booze' with all of your old army buddies? I wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiled in cool amusement, confident in her abilities to behave appropriately in all social situations, both high and low. She rose gracefully, and followed the captain from the room.

River felt Simon coming over and quickly closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She let her breathing become light and shallow, wondering if he would see through her ruse. He checked on her, and apparently convinced, left her where she was without comment, glad she was getting the rest that seemed to elude her of late. River heard his distinctively crisp steps go down the stairs.

"Jayne, will you bring down the cradle for Hob?" Zoë asked, gathering up extra cloths, a small bottle of water, and a blanket for the baby.

"Yeah, got it." River heard his chair scrape back and his footsteps coming closer. Hob's cradle had been set against the wall of the crash circle during the day so that Zoë could put him down somewhere safe and comfortable while she worked in the kitchen or at the table.

River peeked open one eye and gasped a little at the sight of Jayne standing right in front of her, staring down at her with a droll expression. She shut her eye again quickly, mortified that he had caught her doing something so juvenile.

"You feelin' better?" he asked, not fooled for an instant.

She opened up her eyes and nodded grudgingly, a telltale flush heating up her cheeks.

"Then come on down and meet some folk." He bent and picked up Hob's cradle effortlessly, capturing it between his arm and his side. He paused, as if considering, and then held out his free hand to her, palm up. It was the most courteous, the most _gentlemanly_ gesture River had ever seen him make. Her pulse started hammering in her veins as she stared at that hand. Slowly, she reached out and curled her cool fingers over his warm ones, feeling his easy strength as he levered her up and to her feet. The light cotton blanket that she'd been huddled under slid away with a gentle swish. When she seemed to be standing steadily on the floor, he gradually, almost reluctantly, released his grip. He quirked up an eyebrow as if to say, "All good?" and she nodded dumbly in reply.

He turned and maneuvered the cradle out of the entryway, and River followed with dazed steps. Genius she might be, but it still took a few minutes for her spirit to take flight as she realized that this behavior toward her just might be construed as…a sign.

&&&&&&&&

**A/N**: It's Joss's fault that Mal gets all the strange cultural references. Ah, the perils of admitting that you've read a poem! Thanks for reading, and for all the great reviews. Gem


	15. The Gathering

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 15: The Gathering

The Waarf brothers had been the first to arrive: all three of them tall, husky towheads with friendly, open faces and placid blue eyes. The eldest, Miles, captained their father's old ship, the _Daland_. Their father, Erik, had been Mal's lance-jack at Serenity Valley. The three boys had kept in contact with Mal ever since he'd delivered their father's final letter and personal effects after the war.

The younger two, Reginald and Beverly, were standing slightly behind Miles as he chatted with Kaylee and Inara. Reg was thinking envious thoughts about what it must be like to have so many attractive women as passengers and crew. Beverly, slightly younger than River, was wondering whether or not there was going to be any food because they'd rushed through dinner to get here and he was still hungry. When he caught sight of Jayne coming down the stairs, though, his face lit up.

"Hey, Jayne!" He waved with a big grin. "I brought it!" He held up a large instrument case.

"Hey, Bev," Jayne acknowledged him, nodding briefly. He carried Hob's cradle to a darkened corner, as far as possible from the grouping of crates that Mal and Simon were arranging in the middle of the space while still remaining in sight. Beverly followed him, smiling diffidently at River as he passed her.

"I remember you said the other night that we could try pickin' out a few tunes together if we ever got my banjo and your guitar in the same place." The youth said eagerly. "D'you think we might?"

"Sure, if there's time," Jayne replied easily. Mal beckoned him over to help with the crates, and Jayne paused to tug on the work gloves that had been half-stuffed in his back pocket. "Why don't ya put your case down and give us hand here?"

"Okay." Glad to be doing something, Bev propped the banjo case against the wall and the four men worked quickly and efficiently together to create a rounded seating section.

River was highly amused by the blatant hero-worship radiating from the younger man. She wondered how and when he and Jayne had gotten to know each other so well. She noticed a new arrival with curiosity.

Zoë was standing near the ramp, talking to the thin, dark-skinned man with an eyepatch who'd just walked up – Alexander Kehlar. She introduced him to Miles, Reg, Kaylee and Inara. He was shyly in awe of Inara – he had never met a real Companion before.

River drifted over toward Simon, who was wiping off his hands on his handkerchief.

"I thought you were sleeping. Did Jayne wake you up?" Simon asked, casting an annoyed glance at the mercenary, eager as always to paint him as the culprit.

River couldn't prevent the secretive smile that crossed her face. "No…I just decided to come down and meet some folk."

Simon stared at her, a little puzzled and wondering if she was feeling all right, before his attention was jerked away by a shout.

"Sarge!" A very tall, very husky woman bellowed as she made her way up Serenity's ramp, grinning widely, her closely shorn white hair tinted yellow in the amber light of the setting sun. "And god's giddy pants, it's Zoë and her young 'un! I could not believe it when Mal here told me that you'd had a yourself a baby, corporal." Tasha Kane marched in and began pounding Mal on the back with overly enthusiastic affection, looking over his shoulder at Zoë and Hob. "Let me say hello to these folks then I'm gonna come over there and get me some sweet baby love."

Zoë's arms tightened around Hob in apprehension.

"Tickled to see you again, Tash," Mal gave a strained smile, standing up valiantly against the forceful blows. "Since I'd almost healed up from the last time."

"And Jayne! You son of a bitch! Thought you'd still be drunk under a rock somewhere after that night out, you mule!" She moved to Jayne, who wisely held up his fists, inviting Tasha to give him knuckles, hoping to ward off the friendly abuse that Mal had suffered through. She cracked her fists against his, driving him back slightly, and even with the gloves on Jayne's teeth snapped together as he grimaced in pain.

"Hey… there…Tasha," he said in a stilted voice, trying to shake out his hands without being too obviously wimpy about it.

River had to smile. Tasha was all gruff amiability as she greeted the Waarf brothers, actually grabbing Bev in a headlock and roughing up his hair. Her thoughts were as plain as day. She was happy to see her old army pals, excited about the job and the big payout, feeling that finally something was going to go right for her little crew. Even better, she was remembering the last time they'd gotten together, sending flashes of that night after Badger's meeting…Jayne had been playing tall card and getting drunk with Tasha's crew and the Waarf brothers…giving Beverly sage guidance on how to kick the shit out of anyone who made fun of his name…not a single whore in sight. River's smile widened into an elated beam. He _wasn't_ a rat after all, just a drunken mule, to coin Tasha's phrase. No wonder he'd been confused and resentful by her aggrieved attitude toward him.

"Nice to meet you, Kaylee," Tasha was saying. "Now lemme at that precious child," Tasha strode over toward Zoë and the baby. Zoë stared at her coldly.

When Tasha ignored the implicit warning in Zoë's eyes and reached out for Hob with overeager hands, Zoë spoke out. "He ain't a plaything. You touch my baby with those big rough paws of yours and I'll shoot you where you stand." Her tone was matter-of-fact, deadly and sincere.

Tasha froze for a moment, and then let out her big braying laugh. "Lord bless me, motherhood ain't softened you none, sir!"

"And nine plus years out ain't made you any more gentle-like, either, Tash," Zoë allowed herself a small grin. "That was good for my fireteam back then, but bad for my infant son now."

"Can't I hold 'im?" Tasha sulked, her light eyes pleading, looking longingly at the baby.

"Maybe later, if you… sit very still… in a chair," Zoë offered unwillingly, as if talking to a particularly obnoxious child.

Inara coughed to conceal her laugh, and Tasha looked her over with interest.

"Ain't you a swanky thing. I know she didn't come with you, Al, so are ya Mal's passenger, crew or bit a trim?"

Inara's eyebrows lifted, and her voice was a little cool.

"None of the above. I rent a shuttle from Captain Reynolds."

"Miss Inara Serra is a registered Companion, Tasha," Alexander informed the older woman with respect in his voice.

Tasha blinked, surprised.

"Companion, huh? You got business over at the hotel? I heard Shu ran all his own whores." Without even pausing to see the effect of her words, she turned to River. "And who's this little sliver of ink?"

"This is River, our pilot," Zoë said carefully. The Tams were no longer assigned a fugitive status, but no one was comfortable giving full disclosure as of yet.

"Pilot? Ha! Pilot a what, the dollhouse? How old can you possibly be, darlin'?" Tasha demanded, chuckling loudly.

"Old enough," River answered with a quirky smile, torn between feeling offended and amused. The woman was even rougher and blunter than Jayne, and that was saying something.

Tasha laughed again in appreciation. "Old enough! She's a sharp one. And this fancy gent?"

"Simon." Simon offered a hand politely, and had it wrenched around as his reward.

"He's our medic," Zoë looked ruefully at Simon, silently apologizing for both the decrease in status and the hand-mangling.

"Pilot, medic, mechanic, now all's ya need is a cook, Mal, and you'll be in clover!" Tasha shouted over at the captain.

"You volunteerin', Tash? Although I don't think we could afford to keep replacin' the dishes. Hey, Monty!" Mal caught sight of the big, hairy man as he trundled up the ramp. The captain went to greet them with a wide smile.

"Malcolm, good to see ya again," said Monty. "Twice in nearly as many days – we're practically livin' in each other's pockets." He shook Mal's hand gladly, but his attention was drawn to Zoë and the baby.

"Zoë Allayne," He came up to her and enveloped both mother and child in a gentle hug. "Mal let me know what happened to your man. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am."

Zoë nodded against his shoulder, giving a tremulous smile.

Monty backed away, looking down in fascination at the baby cradled in her arms. Hob was fully awake now and staring up with curious eyes at this large presence looming over him. Monty leaned in to see him better, and one of Hob's erratically moving little fists grasped Monty's scraggly beard and gave it a tug, much to Monty's delight.

"Oh, we got a cunning one here…what's this little one's name?"

"Hoban Washburne, Jr., after his daddy. We call him Hob for short." Zoë rocked the baby gently, preening under Monty's obvious adoration.

"Well, any blood kin of yourn is a grace in the world." Monty blinked back the tears in his eyes, his words heartfelt. "Hello, little Hob." He touched the baby's cheek and Hob gave a gummy smile, cooing in return.

"You always could charm the birds out of the trees when you put your mind to it, Monty," Zoë laughed, touched. "Let me introduce you to some of our crew. This is Kaylee, our mechanic."

"Pleased to meet ya, Monty. I heard so much about ya!" Kaylee held out her hand but Monty bypassed that and swept her up in a big bear hug.

"Little Kaylee! The genius mechanic! That captain a yours is always gloating about how ya keep this old boat in the air with nothin' but spit and a promise. You ever get tired of Serenity, you come find me, you hear?"

Kaylee blushed and bit her lip as he set her back down. "I'll never get tired of Serenity."

"And this is River…our pilot…and Simon, our bones, and you know Jayne over there."

"How d'do?" Monty gave a slight bow in River and Simon's direction and waved at Jayne.

"And this is Inara, she rents one a Serenity's shuttles."

"Hello, Monty. I am very happy to make your acquaintance." Inara came forward, and held out her hand. River could feel how much she liked Monty already, having been impressed by his tenderness with Zoë and Hob. Inara knew from Mal's stories that Monty was his favorite amongst the survivors of the war. She wanted to like him, and more importantly, she wanted him to like her.

"Miss Inara, you are a _nü ren cong xing,_" Dazzled, Monty bent over her fingers in an old-fashioned gesture of obeisance, which charmed Inara to no end. She looked over at Mal with delight, an approving smile curving her perfect mouth.

Trying to conceal his pleasure at her approbation, Mal cleared his throat. "Now that we're all acquainted, who wants a drink?"

&&&&&&&

Reg Waarf thought she was very pretty. River felt him staring at her, thinking about her shiny dark hair, and how gracefully she'd seated herself on the crate, and how long it had been since he'd seen a woman's naked foot, and how much he'd like to see more female nakedness in general. He was trying to decide whether or not he was bold enough to take the vacant crate next to her. As the others started claiming their places he realized he had to decide quickly. He screwed up his courage and approached. Just as he turned to ease himself down, Jayne came up from behind them and yanked the crate out of formation, saying, "Hey, Reg, this un looks a little rickety for a man your size. Why don't ya sit over there, and I'll get a new one."

"Oh, sure," Reg blinked, and moved away awkwardly.

Jayne rolled his eyes with a "too easy" shake of his head. He kicked the very same crate back into position, stepping over it and settling down with a satisfied smirk. He put his cup of hooch on floor between his feet and sat forward with his elbows resting loosely on his thighs.

River's senses jumped in pleasure. To the casual observer it might have seemed that he was just too lazy or too arrogant to walk around to the other side, but River didn't think so. He had actually, deliberately, chosen to sit next to her. Or even more exciting, he had seen Reg looking at her and fully intended to prevent the other man from having the chance to talk to her. What did it all mean? River couldn't help her little shiver of anticipation.

Jayne lifted his drink and took a healthy swallow, as if none of this was the least bit unusual. From the corner of her eye, a fascinated River watched the strong, rhythmic movement of the smooth muscles in this throat. A primary peristaltic wave, an unremarkable, everyday action, yet the sight of it made the back of her neck heat up and the pit of her stomach feel wobbly. She wondered why it was always the most mundane things he did that made her want him so much.

As he lowered the cup he tilted his head toward her slightly, and caught her glance. His blue eyes were full of secret laughter, pleased with himself over his little ruse involving Reg. He winked at her conspiratorially, just a flicker of an eyelid, drawing her in, inviting her to share his amusement. River pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a grin of her own, and happiness surged through her. Sharing a private joke, another mundane experience, but not for them. At least, not until now.

Feeling incredibly daring, River shifted nonchalantly so that she was leaning toward him.

"You're a naughty man, Jayne Cobb," she murmured teasingly, for his ears alone.

His deep chuckle caused a thrill to run from her scalp to her bare toes. He eased over a few inches in her direction, turning his head just enough to obscure the movement of his mouth, and answered in a seductively low undertone.

"Startin' to conjure you like me 'cause I _am_ a naughty man."

Suddenly boneless, River had to catch herself before she almost slid right off the crate.

&&&&&&

**Chinese: **

_nü ren cong xing _– goddess from the stars

&&&&&&

**A/N**: Cookies for you, **BlueEyedBrigadier**! I forgot to mention I got my B5 references in the titles, lol! Gem


	16. Killjoy Was Here

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 16: Killjoy Was Here

Oh, god. Ohgodohgod…River stared straight ahead, still stunned, her heart ricocheting around in her chest like a jackrabbit on amphetamines. Afraid to look at him, afraid that he was mocking her somehow, afraid that she'd had some sort of fit, afraid it wasn't real.

"…you like me 'cause I _am_ a naughty man…"

She could still hear his words and that low chuckle rolling around in her consciousness, sending secondary thrills throughout every cell of her body. He really did say it…he said it, he's acknowledging the kiss, all those moments between us, he's _not _mocking me, he's …he's…_flirting _with me. River felt like she might faint, and wondered inanely if anyone had ever lost consciousness as a direct result of being flirted with by Jayne Cobb.

She _had_ to look at him.

With painful anticipation, she peeked at him sideways through the curtain of her hair. He was staring down into his drink, snapping the rim of his cup with one blunt fingernail, a supremely bland and guiltless look on his face. For anyone who actually knew him, this was an immediate giveaway that he was up to some kind of fun-for-Jayne misbehavior.

Mal knew him. From his place at the curve of the oval of crates and boxes, the captain moved his narrow-eyed gaze from Jayne to River.

River honed in on Mal's thoughts: What's goin' on with those two? Looks like that stupid bull is windin' up my little witch over there. Great, Jayne, right when we need her sane and in the here and now. Wonder if she read anything useful off a any of these guys…

The captain got to his feet and ambled over to loom in front of them.

"Little one?" He asked quietly, folding his arms. "You doin' what you're supposed to do?"

River nodded quickly. There was a half-formed thought in the captain's mind that he'd better split them up like unruly schoolchildren, sending the class bully off to the corner, and she definitely did not want that to happen.

"Well?" He arched his eyebrows.

By his sudden stillness, River could tell Jayne was paying close attention, although he didn't turn his head.

"Nothing pertinent, Captain," she reported softly. "They were contacted by Badger, just as we were, offered the job, and accepted it gladly. They know he is a rich hotelier and manufacturer. Tasha and Monty believe the cargo will be minerals or mining equipment. Miles thinks it might be migrant workers hoping to avoid the Transitory Labor Tax since the _Daland_ is equipped as a transport. Only Alexander is fully aware of Ungwele's clandestine activities. He believes we will be running guns or gems as cargo, but it's not his business to inquire. Bev is hungry."

Mal's mouth twitched a bit at that last.

"I'll get someone on it. Anything else goin' on that I should know about?" His eyes flicked over at Jayne, who was finding the far upper corner of the cargo bay extremely interesting.

"No," River assured him with a serene look.

Not really satisfied, Mal backed away without turning, still looking between the two of them with distrust. For some reason that moment on the balcony during that tussle with Spanky and gang had risen in his memory, and he was trying to figure on why. He knew it bothered him. He sat back down with a discontented frown.

"How 'bout that Reg?" Jayne asked out of the side of his mouth, as soon as Mal was out of earshot. "What's _he_ thinkin'?"

River blushed and bit her lower lip to prevent her smile, aware that the captain was still vaguely suspicious of their behavior. "He thinks I'm very pretty," she whispered.

"Hey, Jayne," Mal called out suddenly, having decided to put a little distance between them anyway, just in case. "You wanna get that third bottle out? Looks like we're runnin' low."

"Yeah, Cap," Jayne responded loudly. Under the pretext of bending over to put his cup on the floor he leaned in close to her. "Gotta admit, Reg ain't blind," he muttered, and stood up, reversing over the crate with the easy agility that was always so unexpected in a man of his size.

Oh, Jayne. River's eyes followed him until he disappeared behind a stack of pallets. She closed her eyes tightly, savoring the sweetness of the moment. There had been a definite alteration in him…his acknowledgement of her feelings, and something of his, meant that their relationship, whatever it was or would be, had finally crossed some unknown barrier. Is this how it was, when two people were falling in… she hesitated, not knowing how Jayne would define it. Lust? Love? Was it always this teasing interplay, these feints and parries that lead to either trembling uncertainty or moments of pure bliss? River took a nervous, but exhilarated little breath.

She glanced at Kaylee, sitting on her other side, deep in conversation with Alexander, who had flown and serviced Fireflies before the war. River widened her range, looking and sensing around as offhandedly as possible to see if anyone was giving her any particular regard, especially the captain, but his attention had been claimed by Monty and Miles Waarf. Amazingly, no one was staring and pointing at her, although she felt so giddy she was sure sunbeams and sparkly things were shooting out of her pores.

Simon _had_ noticed that she and Jayne appeared to be laughing together, and thought it was a little unusual, but not wholly unexpected in this sort of awkward party-like atmosphere where one might have the tendency to gravitate toward the familiar, even if the familiar was an unpleasant brute. He was relieved when Jayne left to get the alcohol, because that situation was distracting him and he was trying to think of a way to join Kaylee and Alexander's conversation without sounding too stupid or stilted. He was both bored by and a little envious of Alexander's mechanical knowledge, and although he was happy that Kaylee had finally found someone to talk to about the ship (god knows he couldn't, and _really_ didn't want to), he was getting exasperated at being completely ignored by his own fiancée. Er – fiancée? Simon startled himself with the use of the term.

River's happiness overflowed to include Kaylee. It wouldn't be long now...

Tasha was just starting to get impatient. This catchin' up was fun and all, but her crew of three was waitin' to hear what all the fuss was about, and she was antsy to get back to her ship in case the call to move came in. She was a little surprised at Mal and Zoë – she didn't reckon they were usually such missish little wets. Job sounded simple enough to her.

Miles was telling the captain and Monty about his mother's little trading post on Edoras, one of the larger moons off Kyphon, and how a widespread drought had brought about tough times there recently, and the Alliance had promised aid that had never come. He was thinking that it was a long time since he'd seen his mother, and he was worried about her. Monty and Mal were thinking an almost identical thought: _gorram Feds_.

Bev was really thirsty, but just the smell of that stuff in that cup they'd handed him was makin' him feel kinda sick. He was wondering why they'd called this meetin', anyway. He'd really only come for the chance to play music with Jayne, and that was beginnin' to seem less and less likely.

River noted that Reg was a still little miffed at not being able to sit next to her, and a little annoyed at Jayne, and was pondering getting up and taking that seat right now just to spite 'im. He wondered if Jayne would make a stink over it, and whether or not it might come to blows. He thought about the size of Jayne's fists, and decided not to take the chance, glad he wasn't drunk enough yet to do something stupid. River laughed inwardly, delighted with Reg. He could take the seat, or not. Jayne had made his move, and there was no going back now.

River smiled uncontrollably, savoring the memory of the touch of his hand as he helped her to her feet upstairs, his teasing wink, his heart-stopping words, and his last, convoluted, oh-so-very-Jayne-like compliment. She waited excitedly for him to return.

She didn't notice immediately that Simon had given up trying to infiltrate the Firefly discussion, and had made the decision to move across and sit next to her. She gave him a discouragingly tepid smile, trying not to display her disappointment.

"Jayne was sitting there," she informed him.

"Yes, I saw. I thought you'd appreciate some civilized company," her brother whispered with a sympathetic smile.

I love you, Simon, she ruminated silently, but you're a clueless boob with an egregious sense of timing. She watched for Jayne out of the corner of her eye.

When he came back around the pallets he paused for a second and sized up the situation. He uncorked the jug of booze and plunked it down on the barrel that was pulling duty as a serving table. He sauntered around to the far side of the oval and skirted through the gap in the seats, taking the crate that Simon had vacated. He crossed his arms and sat back with an indifferent expression.

Simon was marveling at the sight of Jayne, Tasha, the Waarf brothers and Monty all sitting in a row.

"My god, I think we've been transported to Brobdingnag," he tittered under his breath, turning to her with a grin, expecting her to share his amusement at this witticism, comparing Jayne and the others to the race of giants encountered by Gulliver on his travels.

River watched with dismay as Jayne's expression hardened even further. She didn't need to read his mind to realize what he thought. He assumed that Simon had been put in place to force him to keep his distance. He suspected that they were sharing a laugh at his expense. River looked intently at him, her expression as pleading as she dared to make it. _Please_ look at me, let me show you that I'm not happy, either… River hoped he might come and claim his drink, still sitting on the floor to the left of her foot, giving her a chance to make some private sign, to reassure him that _she_ hadn't called Simon over, but he ignored it, and her.

It would have been better to have invited Reg sit there, she realized too late. Jayne would have understood that, and dispensed with him as a minor annoyance once again. But Simon…Simon represented something to Jayne…and that thing was the barrier that he'd allowed himself to cross for those few heady, wonderful minutes. River wished with selfish impatience for this meeting to be over, wished they would all just go away, and she wished desperately that she could get Jayne alone so that she could explain…

"River?" Simon prompted her gleefully, still anticipating an approving response.

"I've always found Swift's thinly veiled treatises on sexual repression unnecessarily hortative and tedious," she answered frigidly. Take that, Simon, you…you…_killjoy._

"Uh, right," Simon blinked, unsure why his literary banter had fallen flat.

With the setting of the sun, a cool breeze whispered up the open ramp and into the cargo bay, stirring River's hair, sending a foreboding chill down her spine, and reminding her of the reason they were gathered here. Plunged from the heights of happiness into a sudden, jarring depression, she shrank into herself, twisting one tendril of hair with anxious fingers.

&&&&&&&&

**A/N**: Trust Simon, lol. Thanks for reading! Gem


	17. The Black Bird

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 17: The Black Bird

Oh, god, now what? Mal thought, contemplating the interplay between River, Jayne and Simon. First River and Jayne are sparking off each other, that disconcerting spiky hum running between 'em, and now Simon's in the mix, looking snotty as usual, little witch is on the verge, and Jayne's bent all out of shape. This is not the time, people, he thought in annoyance.

They were only waiting for Zoë, who was on her way back from feeding and changing the baby, and Inara, whom Mal had asked to get some milk and cookies for Bev, to sit down again before they began.

"So what's this all about, Sarge?" Tasha demanded, after everyone was finally settled. "From what Zoë said it sounds like ya think the pitch is queer."

Mal nodded, getting to his feet to stand in the middle of the circle of crates. Time for the speech…again.

He cleared his throat.

"Now I'm not much for questioning easy money myself, but this job does seem a mite too painless for the kind of cash promised. It was pointed out to me… why would a guy this rich and connected need to hire a bunch of low runners like us to move his goods?" Mal coughed a little uncomfortably, avoiding Inara's eyes. To her credit, her expression remained serious and attentive. "Sounds like a guy that's desperate. So Zoë waved some of Wash's contacts before we got here."

Zoë stood up and handed a drowsy Hob over to an always receptive Kaylee, who cuddled him for a moment before standing up and wandering over toward the bay doors, away from the possibly loud conversation, rocking him slightly to encourage him to fall asleep. Simon turned to watch her with a slight smile.

"Badger explained this job as a straight transport. We pick up some goods, we drop off some goods, people get paid, everybody's happy," Zoë lifted her eyebrows, looking for agreement. There was a general murmur of consensus. "Well, turns everyone ain't so happy on Sergey. Shu Ungwele's been runnin' guns for black market gems and minerals for years, keepin' all the factions here hot and ready to go at each other, while he sits back, pockets the cash, and runs the planet his way from his fancy hotel up here in the mountains. But now Ungwele's got a problem, and that problem is named Ephraim Guynan. Up 'til we got here, this was about as much intel as we could pull on this guy. And for the last week, no waves been goin' out from Sergey, no lawforce, no newswave, no pop." Zoë pushed aside a baby blanket on her crate and retrieved a capture that had been half-obscured there. She held it up so that everyone could see the grainy image. It had been downloaded from the cortex, a luridly colorful headshot of a dark haired, dark-skinned man in a military uniform, stiff collar decorated with the usual sort of devices: a black falcon rampant, holding a red thunderbolt in its claw. It looked like it was taken from one of those propaganda murals.

Monty and Tasha leaned forward uneasily to see the picture, and Zoë handed the capture to Monty, who started to pass it along.

"But, Zoë, we been listenin' in on waves since we got here. I never heard a mention a this guy," Miles looked at the image blankly.

"Not surprisin', since Shu controls all the satellites. But since we broke atmo there have been some low level radio broadcasts that we were able to pick up. Here's a taste a one that Zoë got off the scanner this afternoon:" Mal took a small player from his pocket and clicked it on. "_Greetings, fellow Sergeyians. This is Colonel Ephraim Guynan of the Free Nationals of Sergey. I bring you glad tidings. General Ong's deficiencies have been detected, his treacherous affiliations unmasked. His government is now overthrown by the revolutionaries. All sixteen governors no longer have power over the states they now govern. The planet's affairs will now be run by the military brigade commanders until further notice_ –" Mal clicked the player off. "That's been running continuously on that channel since we intercepted it, along with a recruitin' message and details on how to join the FNS militia, or what they call the _Hong Se Feng_. Looks like the people of Sergey found themselves a hero."

Mal noted that River had visibly started. What had he said? _Hong Se Feng? _The Red Wind? Red wind…he looked down at the reddish dust and sand on the bay floor, tracked in on their shoes. Red wind certainly seemed reminiscent of a sand storm, or simoom, or whatever River had called it. Oh, this is gettin' better and better, he thought sarcastically, trying to keep the dread at bay.

"Who the hell is General Ong?" Jayne demanded.

"The premier, or most likely, ex-premier of Sergey. Takes his marching orders from Shu," Mal answered grimly.

"So there's some kinda civil war goin' on here?" Kaylee asked from her stance nearest the doors. She turned to look outside with a puzzled look on her face. The hotel buildings in the distance were dancing with color. There was a laser light show of some sort on display, flashing on the buildings, making them glow green and pink and gold against the velvety dark sky. Faint music reached them even at this distance. "You'd never know it, would ya? So how is it that all them people are still over there?"

"Doubt they know. The war is something takin' place down there in the desert. Don't affect their lives none as long as they get fresh lemon-scented towels on time." Zoë gave a cynical shake of her head.

"Well, this is all mighty interestin', but what does this have to do with the job? You think Shu's gonna try and get us to fly into some war zone? That ain't what Badger said. Said this was off-world transport." Tasha scratched her head skeptically.

"And I haven't heard anything about any a this. Stuff on the cortex all sounds normal...kind of the same stuff over 'n over, but nothing about fightin' or this Guynan fellow," Miles frowned. Seemed like he couldn't fathom how anything this big could be happening almost under his nose and not hear about it on the cortex. "If this is some kinda planetary war, why wouldn't the Feds be all over it?"

"Maybe the Feds are hanging back and waiting it out, watching to see who comes out on top. Maybe they _want _to get rid of Ungwele and this General Ong," Alexander suggested.

Inara nodded at this reasonable implication, her worried eyes on Mal.

"Alliance don't much take to revolutionaries, Al," Zoë said dryly. "Don't think they know about any a this, either. Shu must have wave inhibitors even on the Alliance satellites."

"Tasha's got a point. Still don't see where any a this is our concern," Monty interjected frankly, shaking his head. "I've run guns afore, and so have you. What ain't you tellin' us, Mal?"

That my resident psychic had a very bad notion? Of any of them, Mal wished he could take Monty aside and explain.

"Just got a feelin' things don't add up, Monty."

"But what if that General Ong is tryin' to call the Feds for help? Ain't they on the same side?" Kaylee asked anxiously.

"Call for help?" Mal pondered. "I'm thinkin' Shu don't _want_ help…" he mulled that thought over slowly, and suddenly his face cleared as thought he understood. "Damn it…who's the first to bolt off a sinkin' ship…"

Jayne caught his drift almost immediately.

"You think this _gan ni niang_ is bugging out, and we're his ruttin' lifeboats," he growled.

"That's why he got all waves and the cortex locked down, that's why he keeps the hotel operatin' like it's all just dandy…he's gonna cut and run before the shit storm hits, before the FNS even realizes he's made his move," Mal shrugged.

"And that's where we come in?" Reg asked tentatively.

"Dubious sub-contractors," Mal gave a derisive laugh, and this time he did look at Inara. "No link to him or his business… smugglers, who know how to slink about the black, avoid the Alliance like the plague, and get him and whatever he's takin' with him well on his merry…"

Alexander glanced at the capture of Guynan and put it down on the edge of Kaylee's empty seat. Another gust of desert air, stronger this time, wobbled the capture and it clattered onto the floor at River's feet. She leaned over curiously to give it a closer perusal. Mal watched as her expression loosened, and her eyes widened and grew vacant. She reached out one slim little finger and traced around the edges of Guynan's tan military uniform, ending by swirling around and around the insignia capping the tips of the pointed lapels.

She sat up, her eyes still distant and unfocused.

"The black bird beating its wings against the window," she uttered in her spooky voice.

It was strange enough to draw everyone's attention, and there was a sudden quiet.

Mal tensed. Oh, shit, she's goin' bughouse… Serenity's crew held a collective breath, waiting to see if this moment could be glossed over or not.

River nodded at Jayne of all people, quite calmly, as if he would certainly understand what she meant. Jayne frowned, and bent down to retrieve the capture off the floor, having noticed her looking at it. He studied the image for a second.

"Hey, Simon, I think your sister could use a breath a fresh air –" Mal began casually, and Simon nodded slowly, starting to rise. He reached for River, but before he could take hold of her arm, she dipped her shoulder to elude him. She darted over to stand in front of Jayne.

"Break the glass and free the bird before the storm," she ordered him. When Jayne didn't react immediately, she made an impatient sound. Jerking the capture from his hand and raising it high, she smashed the slender frame violently against the rim of his crate, scattering shards of glass. There was a small electronic frizzle and the shattered screen blanked out. Everyone jumped, except Jayne, whose eyes were locked with River's.

Okay, not really in glossin' over territory any more, Mal had to concede.

"River!" Simon's voice broke the tense silence. He looked in alarm at the sharp debris sprinkled like crystallized needles around River's bare feet.

"S'okay, doc. She's all right. It was just an accident." Jayne lied with such blithe confidence that Mal almost believed it himself. Jayne took hold of River's wrist firmly and removed the remnants of the capture from her hand, tossing it carelessly behind his crate. He shifted up, and in one fluid movement he swept River into his arms.

Mal's first thought was admiring: pretty smooth move. His second was baffled, headin' quickly for irate: Jayne looks altogether too comfortable at that, seems like he already knows _exactly_ where his hands fit. And River, tucked up against him like she belongs there. What the _hell_?

Tasha leaned over and gave Mal a look that questioned his sanity.

"That's your _pilot_?"

"She's a tad excitable," Mal admitted.

"A _tad?_ That girl ain't right," Tasha shook her head.

Monty and Miles exchanged an ill-at-ease glance, while Inara smiled reassuringly at Alexander, as if to say, oh, this all very normal, nothing to worry about here.

"Put her over here, let me check her..." Simon directed Jayne anxiously. Jayne crunched across the broken glass and bent slightly to lower River gently to the crate she'd been sitting on. Almost immediately she turned her attention to the open bay doors. She spun out of his arms and slid lithely to her feet, drifting toward the open doors of the bay, the focus of every eye in the room. Her head tilted, and Mal knew that gesture. She was listening in a way that none of them could.

"Someone's comin'," Kaylee announced a few seconds later, half in curiosity and half in alarm. She backed away, the sleeping baby still on her shoulder, instinct telling her to put him somewhere quiet and safe. She looked at Zoë, who nodded her agreement, and Kaylee went to lay him in his cradle.

A moment later a flash of headlights from the access road moved across the interior of the bay, and there was the faint rumble of more than one engine.

"It's Shu," River cried out softly, still blinking from the blinding beam. Her trembling hands came up and grasped her upper arms tightly, as if she were suddenly very cold.

The urgent sound of crates scraping back filled the bay as everyone got to their feet and came to the top of the ramp.

Mal looked out and saw a convoy of long, stream-lined hovercraft passing by that made his dearly purchased mule look like an ugly redhead.

A man sitting in the second car, olive skin darkly tanned, the headlights of the vehicles gleaming on his bald head, turned to look at them. He was wearing dark glasses, and his broad face split into a wide, white smile as he saw them watching. He lifted his hand in a regal half-wave, and Mal knew that River was correct, and he was looking down at Shu Ungwele.

The convoy halted, and Shu, accompanied by two very large, very armed men clad in similar dark grey suits, emerged from the vehicle. Shu himself was husky in a powerful way, the lines of his casual, short-sleeved white silk shirt strained across his broad and meaty shoulders. The thick gold collar at his neck bounced slightly as he charged up the ramp, rubbing his hands together as if in happy anticipation, looking at them all with delight.

"We are having a party, Captain Reynolds? Such fun." His head turned unerringly to Mal, which Mal did not find reassuring. "All along the way I go, and I stop at the ships, and I hear, big meeting on the _Serenity_. I stop at the _Daland_, and the _Remarque_, and the _Juno_, and the _Hotspur, _and all tell me the same." He let his gaze wander from Miles to Tasha. "I think to myself, meeting? Why a meeting? It must be a party."

"Just some old friends gettin' together," Mal answered coolly. "And it's your business exactly how?"

Shu stared at him for a moment, and then broke out into peals of laughter. "Oh, you are amusing! Of course it is my business. That is exactly how it is – my business." He was able to imbue his pleasant words with subtle menace.

"I take it you're Ungwele, then?" Mal smiled a little, lifting an eyebrow. Did you take evil dictator _classes_, you asshole?

"You may, Captain Reynolds, you may." Shu clapped his hands together, rings flashing. He looked around interestedly. "Quite a diverse assembly you have here, hmm?" The gleam of his sunglasses bounced from Monty to Inara to Bev Waarf, when suddenly they seemed to register River, who stood off to the side, still shaking visibly. His head moved back and forth inquisitively, like a dog following the curious movement of a squirrel. Shu moved toward her, and Simon jerked in River's direction involuntarily, as if to intervene. Shu noted this with a brief smile, more intrigued than before.

"You seem very familiar to me, young lady. Have we met?" he queried. He took off his sunglasses to see her better, revealing eyes of such a pale grey they almost appeared white, shocking in his deeply tanned, fleshy face. River made a tiny sound of alarm.

Mal's jaw tightened. It wouldn't be surprising if Shu kept an eye out for high level Alliance fugies. It didn't matter that the bounty had been lifted. He didn't want Shu any more interested in Serenity than he already was.

River shook her head unsteadily.

"Dear heart, are you unwell?" Shu asked kindly, taking another step toward her. "We have very fine medical facilities here at the Orrica."

River flinched, and suddenly Jayne, who had been leaning against the door frame behind her, reached out and gripped her shoulders firmly, pulling her against the solid wall of his chest. He looked down at Shu with a distinctly territorial message in his insolent eyes.

Watch it, Jayne…this guy isn't reactin' well to insolent, and you do insolent better'n anybody in the 'verse, Mal advised silently.

River pressed back against Jayne, closing her eyes briefly. Mal watched wonderingly as the shaking diminished, and the hunted look drained out of her face. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at Shu directly.

"I'm better now, thank you," she answered calmly.

"I see that," he smiled, impressed. "He's a strong man, yes?" His eyes flickered up at Jayne, whose expression had only gotten colder.

"Yes," River agreed softly.

"Good, good. I like strong men to work for me." Shu laughed a little bit, and turned away, done playing. "I have two other strong men here, Archer and Kang. They will be staying with you on the _Serenity_ as my liaisons until our work is finished. This is acceptable, yes, Captain Reynolds?"

"It's just Serenity. The name of the ship. And I got a feelin' that Archer and Kang will be stayin' on whether I find it acceptable or not," Mal noted with an unpleasant twist to his mouth.

"Very true. Not long now, and we'll begin. Archer will keep you abreast of my orders." Shu slid his dark glasses back on. He linked his hands behind his back and gave them one last avuncular smile. "Such good friends, working together. Just like the old times, hnn?"

"Yeah," Mal nodded. "Just like."

"Serenity," Shu looked up at the ship thoughtfully, and then he laughed to himself. "Appropriate."

He waved all around, like their favorite friend taking his leave, and marched energetically back down to his hovercraft.

The convoy pulled away a moment later, leaving Archer and Kang standing on the ramp.

"Go on back in. If you others want to go back to your ships, you check with me first." Archer motioned with his head. Kang's hands tightened on his large automatic weapon, and he planted himself on the ramp, looking out across the landing berths. Made Mal wonder if he was expecting trouble from the outside, rather than the inside.

The Waarf brothers began dispersing back toward the crates, looking uneasily at Archer.

"I'm gettin' back to my ship _now_," Tasha said worriedly.

Monty nodded. "I'm like to think that we each got a Archer and Kang of our own waitin' on us back there. Reminds me that my first mate ain't checked in since I got here." He took a com out of his pocket and clicked the receiver to see if it was still functioning.

"Go back and sit a spell, folks, we just might have some new information," Mal said quietly, eyeing River and Jayne. Jayne still had his hands on River, and Mal moved his jaw to one side thoughtfully. That was a situation that could bear some lookin' into when he got a handle on the current insanity.

"How's that, Sarge?" Tasha challenged, confused. "Pretty sure I heard every word said here, and other than Shu givin' the eye to Nervous Nellie over there, I didn't learn nothin'."

"_I_ learned I hate that pompous little _ji ba_," Jayne muttered. He caught Mal's pointed stare, and his hands slid away from River as he stepped back from her and returned to his shoulder to the wall.

Kaylee, Inara and Simon had both moved over to River in concern.

"Are you all right, _mei mei_?" Simon questioned. He looked up at Jayne grudgingly. "Thank you for what you did for her."

Jayne shrugged, and looked away.

"He was a scary man," Kaylee's eyes followed the lights still disappearing in the distance as the convoy continued on its way over to the warehouses. "Did ya see his _eyes_, Simon? They weren't…normal."

"Bear with us, Tash," Zoë jerked her head over to the crates, indicating they should move back that way. She and Mal approached the group surrounding River. Mal glanced around to make sure Archer was at a sufficient distance.

"Tell me a story, little witch," he said tersely, leaning in. "Preferably one explainin' what the hell is going on here. And if I hear the words simoom, or black bird, come out your mouth one more time, I am not going to be happy."

"The black bird –" River began.

"What did I just say?" Mal broke in, not joking.

"The black bird is that Ephraim guy," Jayne hissed impatiently from over River's shoulder, giving Mal a back-off glare. "He got that black hawk on his collar. I think crazy was tryin' to tell us that Shu's got him prisoner somewhere."

"Yes, _yes,_" River whispered slowly, turning to look at Jayne with amazement. "Shu is using him as a shield to keep the _Hong Se Feng_ at bay while he prepares his escape. But they're getting impatient, and they're getting angry. Guynan was the coalescing force that kept them organized as a military entity – they are ready to break apart into clannish hordes once again. They're coming for him, Captain." She lifted her haunted eyes towards the bustling hotel complex. "They're almost here…and they want blood."

"You ever got any cheery updates?" Mal looked at River inquiringly. "Somethin' that's _not_ along the lines of 'sunny, with a slight chance of, oh, let's see, _massacres_'?"

"All them people…" Kaylee gazed out at the hotel sorrowfully. "Never even gonna know what hit 'em. Families…honeymooners…" she trailed off, and looked at Simon.

"There must be something we can do." He took her hand. "Some way to warn them."

"Anyone wanna hear my suggestion?" Jayne asked, lifting a finger.

"_No_." That was unanimous.

"Too bad. I say we kill those two, get gone, and feel real bad about the whole thing tomorrow." Jayne looked over at Archer and Kang.

"Shut up, Jayne. If we rescue Colonel Guynan, he may be able to put a stop it." Zoë spoke up thoughtfully.

"Yes. They will listen to him." River nodded unhappily. "But…there's more."

"Of course there is," Mal gave a mocking smile. There always was.

"General Ong did request help from the Alliance, but they are stretched thin in this sector and inured to sectarian violence on Sergey. Shu got their attention with one word."

There was a long pause.

"Independents," Zoë said faintly.

"Badger," Mal said abruptly. "Ruttin' Badger…that was botherin' me…why Badger? What do you want to bet Shu picked him 'cause he deals with a lot a Browncoats?"

"Think Badger knew?" Zoë asked harshly.

Jayne gave a snort of disgust that conveyed his opinion. "Prob'ly gave a discount for Mal."

"I see it. Alliance shows up lookin' for Independents fomentin' rebellion –" Mal shared a bitterly amused glance with Jayne. " – and Shu makes sure they find some. And hey, after we're all bound by law for gun-runnin' and causin' anarchy, Feds might as well clean up that big fuckin' mess goin' on down there in the desert."

"And Shu starts out on top all over again." Jayne smirked approvingly. "Nice play."

"What kinda time we got, little one?" Zoë asked.

"Ungwele is stalling…Alliance, a fleet of cruisers, will be here tomorrow. He thinks the _Hong Se Feng_ will hold off as long as they believe Guynan is still alive, but he's wrong. I feel them all the time now, like a drumbeat of madness and rage running under the sand. It won't be long." River shivered. Simon put his arm around her shoulder protectively.

"So all we gotta do is rescue Ephraim from Shu and his plentiful and well-armed security forces, stop the FNS army bent on destruction, carnage and all-around unpleasantness, and make our escape before the Alliance gets here." Mal glanced around at each of their faces with a manic little grin, while inwardly he was thinking, we're entirely humped, and we all know it.

"Sounds about right, sir," Zoë gave her dry little smile.

Mal's eyes came to rest on Inara, whose face was white with tension. How she was holdin' in that "I told you so," he couldn't figure.

Jayne laughed unexpectedly, and they all turned to look him as he shook his head with ironic acceptance.

"What it _sounds_ like is a total cluster-fuck. Ain't that our specialty?"

&&&&&&&&&

**Chinese: **

_gan ni niang _– motherfucker

_ji ba_ – prick

**A/N**: I really, really wanted to name this chapter **Tonight on Nickelodeon: River Explains It All**. But it wouldn't fit. Thanks for reading! Gem


	18. In and Outed

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful characters and the good ship Serenity all belong to Joss Whedon, or Mutant Enemy, or Fox, or whoever actually owns them, and that person or entity is definitely not me. Written for amusement purposes only. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

**Rating: **T, with rough language warning. May go up for later chapters.

**Summary: **Eight months after Miranda, the crew of Serenity still struggles to adapt to the "new normal." Constructing, and deconstructing, moments of her life, River attempts to assimilate her new and sometimes painful feelings for Jayne. - - Rayne, but will touch on other relationships. Post-BDM, of course.

Chapter 18: In and Outed

**In**

Cluster-fuck. River had never heard the term before, but she instantly understood its meaning: disorganized and random thrashing; difficult, unfulfilling, and more than a little hazardous. She catalogued it approvingly under the lengthy mental column entitled "Jayne's More Picturesque Vulgarities."

The group huddled by the side of the cargo bay shifted farther away from the increasingly interested Archer. River could hear him wondering what they were discussing so intensely, but all he knew about this particular operation was that Mr. Ungwele had told him to keep them waiting on their ships until they were called to the warehouses. Both Archer and Kang were alert for any sign of trouble from the FNS, but River felt no knowledge of Guynan from either of them. Still, Archer was experienced enough to be suspicious of their behavior…it wasn't what he'd been expecting, and that was enough to set off faint alarm bells in his brain.

"Can't disagree," the captain was grimly amused. "And that brings me to the first issue. I can't order any a you to follow through on this thing. I need to know, right now, in or out? Jayne, since you brung it up so delicately, how 'bout you start?"

Jayne's mouth compressed and his gaze wandered upward as if he were thinking it over.

"Out to where?" he said after a second, lifting one shoulder idly. "Desert don't look too hospitable right now."

"Either Monty or Tasha would take you on in a heartbeat, no questions asked." Mal blinked, realizing belatedly that his words could be construed as a compliment. "I mean, you could try your luck there," he amended with a casual shrug. It was one of the few times that River had ever heard the captain even hint at Jayne's considerable worth as crew.

River looked down, biting her lip. _Please, stay with us_… Surprisingly, the other crew members of Serenity were thinking not dissimilar thoughts, even Simon, who recognized Jayne's value in a fight.

"Payout ain't lookin' too good, either, from any angle, so might as well get some play a my own," Jayne gave a perverse smile. "In."

River's gratified gaze shot over her shoulder, and crashed into his hard blue stare. Despite the support he had shown earlier, he was still not entirely happy with her.

"In!" Kaylee said immediately, relieved, and there was general agreement.

Mal turned to Zoë.

"You should be safe here on the ship for now, but if the FNS shows up and things start lookin' hairy, you put that baby in a shuttle and run, you hear?" he declared forcefully.

Zoë chuckled without humor.

"I ain't leavin' Serenity, and until there ain't no other choice, Hob ain't leavin' me. If you need me on the job, that's where I'll be. 'Nara, we talked about this." Zoë looked to Inara.

Inara nodded somberly. "I have supplies in my shuttle already. I'll move his cradle and some clothes in as soon as possible." She looked at Mal. "As the ward of a registered member of a powerful guild, he will have substantially more protection from any kind of establishment forces, such as the Alliance. The _Hong Se Feng_ is another issue altogether, but Zoë and I came up with this contingency plan not long after Hob was born and I think it may serve us well here."

River could feel Mal's irritation that they thought so little of his ability to keep the baby safe that they had to construct an emergency plan, tempered weakly by his inner admission that it had been a good thought, and would probably be necessary, if not tomorrow, then at some time in the future.

"Then that's settled," he said with only a hint of peevishness, trying to let it go for now. "Now we just have to set the record straight with them." He glanced over at Tasha, Monty and Alexander, heads together by the crates. The elder Waarfs were sitting silently, with Reg drinking steadily while Miles was growing more and more disturbed and upset. Beverly had polished off the cookies, wondering when they were going to leave.

"It would be mighty fine if you could tell me that Guynan is being held in some nearby, extremely accessible location, little witch," Mal began, resignation already present in his voice. "Like maybe them warehouses that Shu was headin' toward? Cause it'd be half the battle if Shu himself invites us over there to load up and we can figure on some way of gettin' in there and grabbin' the colonel."

River shook her head reluctantly. Shu had Guynan in his own private vault, constructed in the lower level of the elaborate edifice known as The Palace, modeled after the famous Taj Mahal on Earth-That-Was.

"He's being held in a secured room beneath The Palace," she informed him.

"Where the ruttin' hell is _that_?" whined Jayne in exasperation.

"The Palace is Shu's fancy private hotel building way over there," Kaylee piped up, gesturing vaguely toward the buildings in the distance. Jayne gave a grunt of unhappiness at that information.

"Now how do _you _know?" the captain demanded, bewildered.

"I got a look at the brochure…uploads automatically at the checkpoint." Kaylee gazed around artlessly at their staring faces. "Says right there on the map of the Hotel Orrica: the Palace. The reflectin' pool in front of it is right between the Ice Pavilion and the Lucky Diamond casino. S'where all the really rich n' famous people stay."

"The _brochure_," Mal repeated incredulously, an unbidden laugh stuttering from his throat.

"So you're sayin' this is some place we can just…walk into?" Zoë questioned, her tone just this side of hopeful.

"Highly improbable," River shook her head. "It's Shu's private residence, and those who are invited to stay there are his private guests. There will be tight security…it is the hub of Shu's empire."

"Natives're gettin' restless, Cap," Jayne interjected, looking out from his vantage point against the wall. Tasha was glowering over at them, and both Miles and Monty were now on their feet, moving around agitatedly.

"Inara?" Mal turned to her with a slight grin. "Wiles?"

Inara looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, and then her expression cleared and she laughed lightly.

"Of course." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and they watched in appreciation as within the space of that one cleansing breath the tension slid visibly from her neck, shoulders and hands, and her whole body seemed to lift lightly in the air. River heard Inara's inner voice chanting calming instruction: _banish worry, banish fear, open your heart and mind and eyes to best serve their needs, this is but one moment in time, and you hold it within the palm of your hand._ When Inara opened her eyes again she was tranquil, poised, and all Companion. Her consciously projected beauty was luminous.

"Never a dull moment, Captain Reynolds," she commented in her warm, lilting voice, no trace of the troubled woman of a few minutes ago remaining.

"Would you have it any other way?" Mal inquired wryly, his own voice deepening.

"You may anticipate a reply on that subject later in the evening, sir," she winked coquettishly, and dazzling them all with a brilliant smile, turned to move gracefully toward the group gathered around the crates. Within seconds they were seated, and hanging on her every word.

"You'd think we'd be used to it," Simon commented appreciatively, after a pause. Kaylee nodded, an awed look on her face.

"The woman's got a power," Mal agreed, his reaction mixed. Her Companion training was both disconcerting and highly alluring to him, a source of discomfort as well as pride. He recognized its usefulness as he watched her mere presence soothe the worried and restive group, but couldn't help but resent the reason for its existence.

"Over some more'n others," Jayne's eyes glinted as they slid in Mal's direction.

The captain looked back at him sourly and River knew he was considering making a crack about certain little witch girls just to see Jayne's reaction, but deferred since this was not the time to get into _that _discussion. River almost wished he would.

"You two think you can figure out a way to get us in there?" Mal scrutinized Kaylee and River.

River nodded. "I acquired Shu's access codes for the hotel systems. I should be able to retrieve visuals of interiors, security, and communications. Whether or not I will be able to manipulate the system will depend on its design, and any secondary encryptions."

"Wash collected a snake file of hard-coded backdoors for a lot a programs," offered Zoë quietly. "Can't hurt to take a look at 'em once you see what kind a system Shu's got."

Kaylee nodded, a little sadly. "I know how to access that."

"Then go be geniuses." Mal nodded toward the stairs. He thought for a moment and then suggested, "Jayne, that kid wants to play his banjo so bad, why don't you get your guitar and you two set up by the ramp, give our unwanted guests somethin' to keep their minds off a what I gotta tell those people over there. Since we ain't got bagpipes to make their ears bleed, the banjo will have to do," he spoke with cynical amusement.

"On it," Jayne nodded, and moved off. He went up to Bev and invited him to play some music with him, and the thrilled teen trotted off to get his banjo from where he'd left it leaning against the wall. Jayne disappeared briefly from view as he went to retrieve his guitar from the common area, under the suddenly attentive eye of Kang.

River's steps slowed as she watched Jayne and Bev, each holding their musical instruments in one hand, dragging crates toward the cargo bay doors. Bev's happiness was almost palpable, and River envied him his innocent ability to fully express his emotions. It brought back her intense feelings of disappointment from the incident with Jayne and Simon. Will there ever be a time when I can be that spontaneous and unguarded with Jayne? She wondered in frustration.

Mal straightened up decisively as the group started to break in different directions. "Shu expects a party, we'll give him a gorram hootenanny."

&&&&&&&&&

Zoë had joined Inara and was being peppered with questions from Tasha, fielding them with her usual imperturbable calm, waiting for the captain. Simon had seated himself nearby, looking vexed, his eyes repeatedly straying to the catwalk where the girls had gone. Don't fret, Doc, Mal ruminated silently. Got a feeling you're going to be busy soon enough.

"Where's that go?" Archer called over to Mal, indicating the upper level catwalk where Kaylee and River had vanished into the interior of the ship.

"Kitchen. Just fixin' up some food," Mal turned to him with a bland expression.

"I don't think I have to tell you that if this ship moves an inch without my say-so, Kang over there is going to get very unhappy." Archer stared at him for a long moment, and then made a decision. He grabbed a small, uncovered crate and tossed it on the floor near his feet, beckoning Kang over. "I want your weapons. Kang, scan 'em."

Kang activated a scope that flipped out of the top of his weapon and held it in the direction of the tense group.

"You first," Archer said to Mal, pointing at the pistol at his hip and then at the empty crate.

"This the way Shu always treats his business contacts?" Mal demanded indignantly.

"Yes," Archer said shortly, raising his weapon with a clear message.

"And I heard such nice things…" Mal mocked, unsnapping the holster and removing his gun. He stepped forward and put it in the container.

Kang jerked the scope toward Monty, who passed a long-barreled revolver forward with a disgruntled look, and Alexander, who surrendered a stiletto, and a sleek lasered pistol. Next Kang trained the sight on Jayne, who was lounging on his crate across from Bev, a challenging smirk on his face.

"This should take awhile," Mal muttered, as Jayne removed one weapon at a time, handing it over to Archer, and then waiting boldly for Kang to shake his head, indicating there was more to come. Bev was wide-eyed at Jayne's cool audacity.

Three knives, a snub-nosed revolver from a SOB holster, a pistol from an ankle holster, and one belt with buckle later, Kang finally gave Jayne an all-clear sign. Using his foot, Archer shoved the box to the far side of the ramp, taking up a surveillance station in front of it, temporarily appeased. The unpleasant moment gradually faded into the pervasive disquiet.

Jayne and Bev settled down on their crates within a few feet of the cargo bay doors, and spent a few minutes tuning up their instruments. Mal dawdled on his way toward the grouping of crates, waiting for them to start playing something real and set up that sound block he wanted.

They discussed a few options, and then Jayne suggested Bev play his favorite song to display his skill. Bev chose "Wicked Rose Stomp" and Jayne, his mood lightened with a huff of laughter at the ambitious choice, indicated his familiarity with the tune. They began, and it quickly became apparent that Bev was quite gifted. The entire group turned to marvel as Jayne and Bev played the lively song together. Bev's fingers flailed over his banjo confidently, his metallic picks flashing in the dim light, his eyes lifting frequently to Jayne for approval. Miles watched proudly, while Reg seemed faintly amused.

Bev finished with a flourish, beaming at Jayne.

The banjo, Mal groaned inwardly, _shiny_. The kid couldn't have played a nice pan flute. Or triangle.

"The boy can pick!" Monty clapped appreciatively, as there was a spontaneous round of applause. Even Archer and Kang had been watching the teen.

"Show-off," Jayne protested good-naturedly, his arm resting casually across the body of his guitar. He sent his easy grin in Bev's direction, causing the boy's flush to deepen. Bev laughed excitedly.

"You kept up, Jayne," he said in admiration. "What next?"

Mal snorted with a sense of irritated bemusement as they began to play their second song. Who would have thought all this adoration would spring from having mothers with a weak grasp of namin' traditions and a mutual ability to pluck a few strings in an organized manner?

A movement by Archer caught Mal's attention. Archer had activated the small flip-up scope on his own weapon and trained it on the stairs. Alarmed, he turned to see what Archer was aiming at. River was coming down with her usual fluid grace, carrying a tray with a teapot and another plate of cookies. Archer flipped the scope back down a second later, finished scanning her for concealed weapons, his expression almost bored. He clearly imagined he had the upper hand. We'll see about that, Mal thought.

He looked at the tray of food – had she merely heard him, or sensed him…? He never could figure on exactly how her little gift worked. He was a little surprised to see her, too, wondering if she had anything to report – she and little Kaylee hadn't been gone but a minute. It would be worthwhile to have her here for the discussion, see if she could read anything off any of the other captains, though. He looked at her with his eyebrows raised and she gave a slight nod of reassurance. They had something. Mal's mouth curled in a satisfied smile. It was good to have geniuses.

There was sudden, blessed silence as Bev finished his latest drop-thumbed bout of rustic cat-strangling.

"I am gettin' a powerful urge to fashion myself some cornhusk dolls, or maybe get along to the quiltin' bee," Mal called out, sending Jayne an annoyed look for being a little _too _distracting. They'd have to shout over that noise. Jayne gave a sarcastic grimace in response, and then nodded "yeah, yeah" in understanding of his orders. He looked to Bev.

"I think somethin' a little down tempo next, huh? You know 'John Henry'?" He plucked a few notes.

"'Course!" Bev answered immediately, insulted.

"I'll call you in," Jayne said quietly, and began to strum the guitar in a softer, slower melody. Bev watched him closely, and at Jayne's brief nod, joined in with the banjo's part.

Mal moved in the direction of the people waiting expectantly for him, and braced himself to serve up some more bad news.

&&&&&&&&&&

**II - Outed**

Jayne and Bev played the old folk song as a relaxed, deceptively simple tune, but River heard the deeper sound, heard the instruments conversing, sharing the classic tale of the big, hard-working man, fighting the future, fighting for human dignity.

She descended the stairs, depositing the tray with its hastily-filled teapot of cold water and the rest of the cookies that Inara had left in the kitchen onto a random crate, and then moving over to sit next to Simon. He was relieved to see her, and he looked at her with a silent question. _Everything okay_? She nodded. His eyes shifted toward the stairs. _Kaylee_? She smiled reassuringly and patted his hand. Kaylee was downloading the information they'd uncovered to a holomap, and then she would join them.

River tried to pay attention as Mal outlined the situation to the others, but her eyes kept straying to Jayne. She gazed at him as he played the guitar, fascinated as always, watching his fingertips move confidently over the frets as he alternately strummed and plucked the strings for the curling end notes. The guitar had the backbone of the tune, low, steady, uncomplicated, but with a lilting hook that echoed the more intricate, twanging tones of the banjo. The two instruments blended and complimented each other, creating a full, rich sound.

River recalled how she had been drifting, cold and lost, in the steely trap of Shu's mind, an unwilling confidant to his well-guarded secrets and calculated cruelties, witnessing with revulsion as he reveled in his faux bonhomie. River closed her eyes for a second, reliving the sensation when Jayne's hands had come down on her shoulders, steady and powerful, pulling her into his warmth, offering his strength to her…like the music, merging, combining, there was a synergy…and she had been able to move at will through the filters of Shu's mind, unafraid.

"So you're thinkin' Shu's usin' us as some kinda _bait_ for the Feds? But how do you _know_? This all sounds like _feng kuang de tan hua_!" Tasha's strident voice startled her, and River's eyes blinked open as she jumped back to the conversation flowing around her. "C'mon, Sarge, what's really goin' down?"

Tasha was ill at ease, angry and afraid. She didn't want to hear any more bad news, her life had been too full of it lately.

"My word on this, Tash," the captain said firmly, keeping an eye on Archer and Kang, thankful that neither of them seemed to be interested in the discussion on the other side of the music. He was trying to parlay his status as "Sarge" into a willing acceptance of a truth that could not be proven. Mal was wondering how to convince them all without sacrificing too much information about the Tams.

"Sorry, Mal, but I don't see any reason to it. Monty, Al, Miles? What are you all thinkin'? Why is this gettin' so complicated? We come to do a job, we do a job. I only gotta answer to the man handin' me the cashy money." Tasha stared around at the others, trying to gauge their reactions.

Alexander shrugged. "He did have that message on the player, Tash, so there is something strange going on here. I don't know if I'm willing to risk my neck on this, though, Mal."

Monty stroked his beard uneasily. "Malcolm says a thing, it usually is," he muttered staunchly, but River could feel that he wasn't completely convinced, either. "And my first mate Quan tells me we got Shu's security on the _Juno_, too. That don't seem kosher."

"Why do we gotta get involved, anyway?" Reg demanded. "If this place is about to go batshit, why don't we all just get? No better excuse in the world."

Miles nodded his head in vehement agreement.

"I can't make any a you stay. I can't make you risk your lives and your ships. If you ain't willin' to help us spring Guynan, that's up to you. But I'm tellin' you true, get out now, if Shu will let you. Don't wait for no suppposed cargo, just run. 'Cause the _Hong Se Feng_ is blowin' tonight, and the Feds will be here by tomorrow, and we are in the pinch." Mal's tone was hard and sincere.

"I still can't see how ya just suddenly _know_ all this. This Colonel Guynan bein' kidnapped or whatever, the FNS comin'…I don't see no army out there." Tasha pointed out the cargo bay door to the quiet desert night surrounding the ship.

"Who _is_ your source, Mal? Shu? One of his men?" Alexander asked with increasing cynicism. "Did someone pass you a note? I have no reason to believe this tale about Guynan, from what I've seen here."

River sat quietly, reaching out with her mind. This was not going well. She looked at Monty. Of all of them, he was the most inclined to believe Mal, and he was remembering how Mal had been right about Bridget. Even so, he was still leaning toward just waiting it out, getting the cargo, whatever it was, and hoping for the best as far as the payout was concerned. River shivered a little. She knew in her very bones that was the wrong path for Monty.

Mal looked harassed, trying to conjure exactly what he could say to persuade them, but before he could speak, River came to a decision and stood up.

She made sure her voice was very clear. "I told him."

There was a moment of startled surprise.

"No." Simon realized what she was doing and leaped to his feet, shaking his head, staring at her in shock. She could hear him beginning to rant inwardly at her, demanding to know why she was compromising her safety to _these people_, people she barely knew, smugglers, miscreants, or at the very least, scofflaws, each one with an eye to a quick score. Just because she no longer had a federal bounty over her head did not make her any less valuable as a commodity.

I'm sorry, Simon, she answered him silently, but these are the people that I _have_ to trust, because I think we need them now. It was a simple equation of risk and reward.

"River, it ain't worth it -" Zoë spoke up urgently.

"That's enough!" Mal was glaring at River, enraged, wondering what in the gorram hell she thought she was doing. "Sit down, both a you."

River heard the guitar jangle to a halt and she turned her head slightly to look at Jayne. He was standing, frowning, his eyes going from her, to Simon, to the captain, trying to fathom what had happened. Bev faltered as well, confused, and Jayne turned to him quickly, moving his hand in a "keep playing" motion. Bev responded to Jayne's prompt immediately, glancing around anxiously. His upbeat tune added a strange, discordant backdrop to the tense atmosphere.

"And just _how _do you know, darlin'?" asked Monty, looking at her thoughtfully.

"River, do _not_ –" Simon commanded her through gritted teeth.

"I read Shu's mind." River explained simply, disregarding him.

"_River_," Simon almost moaned in defeat, clenching his fists. Mal was rubbing the back of his neck, wondering furiously how the hell they were going to explain _that_ statement away.

"Oh, _mei mei_, no," Inara whispered, afraid for her.

"Shiny!" Tasha threw her hands up in exasperation, letting them slap down on her substantial thighs as she got to her feet. "I was just waitin' for batty here to put on another show. Mal, what are you thinkin', lettin' this little girl and her _yu chun _notions yank ya around by the balls? Hells bells, man, find her some toys to play with and leave the real talk to the grown-ups."

"You better be sure you know what you're doin', little one." Mal's eyes were flinty as he stared at River. He disagreed with her decision, but figured it was out of his hands now.

River gave a brief nod to the captain, and then confronted the taller woman with a resigned expression. She didn't want to do this…but it was necessary. If this was the only way to convince them that what Mal had told them was true, so be it.

"Tasha, on your last run you were convinced that you were about to be boarded by an Alliance cruiser, and you scuttled your load. You were precipitate; all they wanted was to cite you for expired docking permits, but you'd already forfeited an expensive cache of liquor and tobacco. This wasn't the first incident where you'd panicked at the first sign of the Feds, but this time your supplier, Billy, demanded that you reimburse him for double the worth of the cargo. "For pain and sufferin'," is what he said." River mimicked the vaguely Irish brogue of the man in Tasha's memory with eerie accuracy. "Initially, you refused, but he threatened to blacklist you. You paid him, but he blacklisted you all the same. None of your usual contacts would hire you. You haven't had cargo or any kind of payment in months. You're hopeful that Shu will let you refuel here, because you barely have enough left to break atmo. That's why you were so thrilled to take this job, with its substantial recompense."

Tasha stared at her, her face going white, then red.

Simon sank back down on his crate, propping his head in his hands and staring sightlessly at the floor. _Why, why, why_, was the litany revolving through his mind.

"P- panicked? That's – that's scandal! I ain't never ditched a load in my life! I ain't afraid of the Feds," Tasha sputtered hoarsely, giving a hollow rendition of her usual hearty laugh.

That verbal bravado opened Tasha's memories to River, and she shuddered suddenly as she glimpsed the reasons why Tasha was _very _afraid of the Feds. The POW ship after the war…two of the guards, amused by Tasha's Amazonian proportions…amused…and aroused…

River said nothing, full of compassion and sickly remorseful that she'd had a part in bringing those traumatic memories to the surface, but her silence was just as intimidating to the bigger woman.

"You been talkin' to my crew!" She blustered defensively.

River shook her head slowly. "They weren't there for the conversation with Billy, and you didn't tell them."

Tasha looked at River with genuine fear and repugnance, backing up unconsciously, almost stumbling over the crate behind her, whispering "Lies! Dirty lies!"

River turned to her attention to Alexander. Tasha's reaction had unnerved him and he held himself very rigidly. His one eye narrowed apprehensively, and an edgy smile pulled at his thin cheeks.

"You wagered the _Remarque_ at dice, and lost," River began quietly. "You took the ship and ran, hoping to garner enough cash to stake yourself in another game and win enough to buy back your chit. You thought to recoup your losses at the casinos here…but that would be an error. Shu's tables are all rigged." She informed him matter-of-factly.

Alexander twitched in discomfort. He was angry, but not at her. He was ashamed that his weakness had put him in this situation, ashamed that his old comrades were aware of his failures.

"Is that true?" Reg asked Alexander in a jittery voice. "Is what she's sayin' true?"

"Yes," Alexander acknowledged evenly, looking away.

"And you, Miles," the young man nearly leaped out of his skin when she looked at him, "you wanted a big cash payout because you want to sell your share of the ship to Reg, and return home to Edoras. Not only are you concerned for your mother, but Janet refused to marry you because she won't live on the ship." River shrugged a little.

"You asked Janet to _marry_ you? Janet _Lester_?" Reg stared at his brother, momentarily distracted. "With her pa the way he is?"

"Sure I did! She's the one I want, even if her daddy is the meanest shepherd I ever knew," Miles replied defensively.

"You're some kinda witch!" Tasha burst out in a quavery voice, staring wide-eyed at River.

"She ain't a witch, she's a reader," Jayne had moved over from his place by Bev to find out what was going on. He was shaking his head a little, looking at River in disbelief. She could tell he was angry that she'd just up and told them.

"No matter, she just ain't right." Tasha insisted, still unnerved.

"Problem is, she's _always_ right." Jayne corrected her, with a rueful twist to his mouth.

The banjo music stopped abruptly and heads turned to look at Bev. Archer was standing in front of the alarmed teen, having stopped the music efficiently by jerking the banjo out of Bev's grasp. Archer had his other hand to his earpiece, listening.

"_Hotspur_!" He called out suddenly. "They're ready for you." Still listening, he shoved the banjo back at Bev as he turned and walked down to the end of the ramp, his attention trained on the warehouses in the distance. Kang followed more slowly, his eyes still on the group congregated in the bay.

Tasha clenched her teeth, looking back and forth between Archer and her old friends. River could feel that Tasha was too afraid of losing her payout to believe them, too afraid of losing her ship, too afraid that they were right. She just wanted to refuel, get her money, and run. River concentrated desperately, trying to find the right words to dissuade her from leaving. River tried to project, struggled to force a feeling, a premonition…but frustratingly, nothing came. Were there too many variables…?

"I'm gonna do the job I came to do." Tasha stated finally. "You all can listen to this creepified bullshit and go look for this Guynan and leave me and my crew out. I don't believe any a it, anyway. And I _ain't_ stickin' around – I am gettin' my fuel and my cargo and blastin' outta here as soon as I can." Her bright eyes were wide with aggression, darting around wildly like a caged bird's, until they met Zoë's firm gaze and it seemed to settle her some. The tone of her voice moderated with regret as she looked at Zoë, and then at Mal, Monty, and Alexander. "It was good to see all a you again, and I wish ya the best of luck. But I gotta do what I can for my ship and my crew, and that don't include rescuin' no _xu gou_ colonel."

Mal was not happy. He rocked back on his heels, arms folded. "I can't keep you here, Tash. I wish you'd stick with us. But you do what you think is right."

Tasha's pained eyes moved from Mal to River. She nodded sharply, and without another word, stumped out of the cargo bay and down the ramp, soon swallowed in the darkness.

There was a heavy pall as they watched her leave. Jayne approached Mal heatedly.

"You just gonna let her _go_?" he fumed.

"What I am supposed to do? Can't hold her hostage." The captain flung out a frustrated hand.

"You don't think she knows a little too much? We gonna trust her not to run right to Shu? You don't think it'll cross her mind that Shu might pay lofty for his very own personal _psychic_?" Jayne said, jerking his head toward River.

River's felt a small echo of her earlier joy. He's worried…for _me_.

"Jayne…Tasha has no intention of informing Ungwele," she informed him gently.

He rounded on her, teeth clenched.

"Not right now, maybe, but who knows how she'll feel in an hour, or who she'll tell if she gets grabbed by the FNS, or the Feds! Why'd ya go and give that up, huh? Just like before, you saw the gap and just had to fling yourself through. _But this ain't the same._ You know that if we survive this thing, you just put a price back on your head!"

"Jayne, it was necessary – " River attempted to explain, trying to remain calm.

"Like hell it was," he said, low and fierce. "Didn't change Tasha's mind, did it?"

Simon surged to his feet. "Stop yelling at her! She must have had a good reason for this!" He put his arm around River protectively. "It's her own safety she's jeopardized, not _yours_." River found it ironic that despite his animated defense of her, Simon had been thinking very nearly the same thing that Jayne had verbalized.

"No one's talkin' at you." Jayne snapped impatiently and turned back to Mal. "The only thing that could a made this situation any worse, and crazy girl goes an' spills it at the first opportunity. And what about them? They on board?" He indicated the others aggressively.

"Step yourself back, Jayne, and maybe we can find that out," Mal said in a taut, very deliberate voice. Jayne shook his head, frustrated and furious, and moved away. "Well?" Mal asked sharply, swinging around to face Monty, Alexander, Reg and Miles.

"Pack up that banjo, Bev," Reg's roughened voice spoke up suddenly. He was more than halfway drunk and he was suddenly terribly frightened. "We are gettin' outta here, too."

"Wait a sec, Reg," Miles said hesitantly. "Maybe we should –"

"_No_, Miles. Whatever the hell is happenin' here ain't our business and is somethin' we _don't_ want to be party to. If what Mal said is true, Ungwele don't even want us, anyway. Just 'cause Dad made the _Daland_ famous for runnin' espionage at the beginnin' of the war don't make us Browncoats." Reg's lower jaw thrust out stubbornly.

"Wrong!" Mal bit out with a pessimistic laugh. "Shu probably wants you _more_, seein' as how you bein' here is proof to the Alliance that our… revolutionary zeal is gettin' passed down to the next generation," he finished with a tight, bitter smile.

"We need to get outta here, Miles," Reg looked at his brother.

"_You_ were the one who wanted this job so bad –"

"Well, now I don't."

"Nothin' to it, you said –"

"Well, I was wrong, okay? _We_ got plenty a fuel, and I say we get back to the ship and hightail it!" Reg pushed back his wispy fair hair with a trembling hand. River could see perspiration beading his pink forehead.

"That's _my _decision!" Miles replied.

"Then make it," Reg said adamantly. "This is all gettin' too strange. We gotta go. We gotta _go_." He repeated, getting up and starting to walk away. "Come on, Bev." He called to his younger brother.

"You probably got your own set of friends waitin' back at your ship, and I'm fairly certain they won't particularly care for you hightailin' it," Mal warned Miles.

"We'll handle it. Mal, I'm takin' your advice. We don't want to get involved in no war…it's just the three of us, and we're gonna take the chance to run. We got outta plenty a sticky situations before."

"I ain't sayin' you're not competent to handle a couple a men, Miles. I'm sayin' that if you settle for a bit, let us hash this thing out, we'll be able to back you up if there's any resistance."

"You got problems of your own, Mal." Miles indicated Kang and Archer dryly.

"Not an issue," Zoë stated with quiet assurance.

"What about them security towers? They got anti-aircraft cannon mounted on 'em. Shu might have a mind to shoot you right out a the sky." Mal pointed out grimly.

"I saw 'em, too. You know the _Daland _starts up fast. She's outrun guns before – and she was made to take a few hits," Miles shrugged.

"Miles, let's go! Now!" Reg called impatiently. He glanced around at them in a hostile manner, his eyes touching on River and then moving quickly away. His perception of her as pretty and graceful had vanished, and in his mind she was pale and strange and vaguely horrifying. He wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

Miles saw this, and not wanting River to feel insulted, smiled at her a little diffidently. "We won't tell no one about you, Miss River. I don't half-believe it myself, anyway." He tried to give an offhanded laugh, but it came out as a shaky chuckle.

"I know you won't," she said. "But I think you should stay with us."

Miles nodded slowly, taking her advisory seriously.

"We'll be as careful as we can. Mal?" He shook the captain's hand, and then Alexander's, and then Monty's.

"Good luck, son," Monty gripped his shoulder bracingly.

"Zoë, good to see you again, and nice to meet ya's." Miles took in everyone with his steady blue eyes.

"It was nice to meet all a ya. Thanks for the cookies, Miss Inara," Bev said shyly to the Companion, before turning to Jayne. "Hey, Jayne, we sounded good, huh? Another time, right?" he asked anxiously, looking for a positive sign from the mercenary.

"Yeah," Jayne nodded. "Another time." His face was closed and tight.

Bev grinned at him, walking backwards and waving until Reg jerked him around in irritation. They saw Archer give the three young men the go-ahead to start back to their ship, angling his chin to his wire transmitter, talking into it as they walked away.

"I should have stopped them," River said miserably, glancing up at Simon.

"There was nothing you could do, _mei mei_," he consoled her.

"They made their decision," Mal agreed in a tough voice.

"You _sure_ they ain't gonna tell?" Jayne asked her gruffly, hands on his hips, still staring out the cargo bay doors.

River nodded slightly "They just want to leave."

"They all gonna be... all right?" he asked a second later.

River looked at him. Despite his attempts to conceal it, his concern for Bev was obvious. She wished she could answer affirmatively. She wished that she could reach out and touch him, show that she understood, offer him the same support that he had given her earlier. She shifted away from Simon's shielding embrace and moved to Jayne's side, standing as close as she dared.

"I don't know," she whispered. There was a swirling emptiness around the Waarf brothers that did not bode well.

There was a distant mechanical rumble of ignition outside, and they saw a flash as the _Hotspur_'s engines roared to life. A few seconds later they heard the ship lift off and move in the direction of the warehouses. River felt a deep sense of failure at the sound and she looked up at Jayne with bleak eyes. Jayne studied her face, his own eyes troubled and still a little angry, but when he swung around to walk back to the crates, he slid one knuckle across her bare arm, almost as if he was commiserating with her. River's body followed that slight touch uncontrollably, pivoting with him as if to prolong the feather-light contact. _Jayne_…had that been deliberate? It had felt _very_ deliberate. He went to stand next to Zoë, waiting impassively to see what would happen next.

The captain turned to Monty and Alexander with a speculative expression.

"And then there were two," he intoned.

Monty shook his head, thumbs thrust into his belt, sucking his teeth, not receptive to Mal's dark humor. River watched as Zoë's face began to tighten in disappointment.

"I got a serious problem with all this," Monty began, moving forward to stare at Mal, his face set. River could feel Mal's heart sink. "I come over here in good faith and ya force me to drink rotgut that knocks ya down and dares ya ta get up." He scratched his cheek slowly. "I'm subjected to all manner of distractions from lil' spooky over there to war stories and treacherous dealin's to the old time music, and then…and _then_, I don't even get my fair share a the parlor trick. I didn't get told no secrets about myself, and I am feelin' entirely gypped, Malcolm, passed over like yesterday's horsemeat. So, darlin'," Monty looked at River, unable to hide the twinkle in his eyes any longer, "why exactly did _I_ take this _huai yun qi _job?"

River smiled mistily at him. Monty had thoroughly enjoyed himself with that. Monty was sticking with them.

"Because you're a greedy old sumbitch!" Mal burst out, relief evident in his voice.

"And Mal was going." River added.

Monty chuckled as Mal duffed him on the shoulder, hard.

"If Mal jumped off a cliff…" Inara murmured faintly.

Zoë grinned at the memory.

"Can't ya even tell me what I had for breakfast this morning?" moped Monty to River, disappointed. "Like to see some magic 'fore the shootin' starts."

"This can't be right." River's mobile features flexed dubiously. "Kimchee and…_squirrel_?"

Monty barked out a laugh. "Now that is amazin'! Quan makes it just like my ma."

"Al?" Zoë turned to the tall, quiet man. Alexander shrugged his shoulders.

"Only three people in the 'verse knew about the _Remarque. _Your girl convinced me. What's the plan?"

"We got a plan?" Mal looked optimistically at River.

Glancing up to see Kaylee coming down the stairs, holding a word pad and the holomap, River nodded. This was the easy part. "We do."

&&&&&&&&

**Chinese: **

_Hong Se Feng _– The "Red Wind," The Free Nationals of Sergey

_feng kuang de tan hua – _crazy talk

_mei mei _– little sister

_yu chun – _foolish

_xu gou – _imaginary

_huai yun qi – _bad luck

**A/N**: Sorry for the long delay! Updates should be more frequent now. And, **leslina**, if you liked it, the guitar session was for you! If not, well, I would have put it in, anyway. ::g:: If anyone is interested, the version of "John Henry" that Bev and Jayne play is the one by Bill McEuen (guitar) and Steve Martin (banjo). Hey, even if it wasn't the only banjo music I own, I'd still have chosen it – very soothing. Thanks for reading! Gem


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